This week has left us trying to find the topside of our shaken snow globe. Monday night we learned some devastating news about McKay's surgeon. The man we searched for, researched, insisted on, trusted, prayed for, wept across from in gratitude overflowing is now battling for his own life after a shocking and serious diagnosis. We have already begun praying for a miracle all his own.
I first heard the news Monday night at a benefit concert for an adult version of McKay and his buddies, musician Paul Cardall. At 36 years old, Paul's overworked heart is now in need of a replacement and after eight months on the transplant waiting list, he was also in need of a well-deserved outpouring of love and support. It was a celebration. A reverencing of life. A group prayer.
As Paul closed the concert he dedicated a song to McKay's surgeon and I was confused. I searched out some other heart moms after the concert and learned the news. He was sick, he had resigned, he had no plans to come back to the hospital. The news precipitated my first real panic attack. I cannot believe how sick I felt. I could barely breathe. All I could do was cry and say, "Who else can save my baby; there is no one else."
A few days later, I'm still having moments where I need to remind myself to breathe. But I am finding a bit of clarity. My faith is in the plan, not the man. Right? Right? Now I'm not so sure. Even more surprising and disappointing to me is that this new news, this new reality is proving my faith may have not been as completely and purely placed as I'd hoped. Yes. That type of soul shaking honesty is surely more worthy of panic and disappointment.
Mostly my search for air and firmly-placed allegiance to this particular miracle maker stems from comments made in our post-Glenn debrief that McKay's Fontan will be complicated by his dextrocardia. He mentioned doing some mental mapping during the Glenn while literally staring at McKay's unique anatomy and planned to make some notes about it in preparation for modifying the Fontan for McKay. First thing Tuesday morning I called and had a nurse read me McKay's post-op notes--no mention of future plans or considerations. Where are the notes? Please find the notes.
At this point we are officially praying that this gifted surgeon will be healed and then exercising complete faithlessness by trying to decide if we're going to need to look outside of Utah for McKay's next surgery. When considering all the variables we've tried to orchestrate, to control, when planning for McKay's treatment and future, this is truly the one variable we had never considered. And I'm sure it's the one thing our heart hero of a surgeon didn't give much thought to either. Serious irony. Serious tragedy. Serious prayers.
McKay's situation will find its answers. I will find my breath. We will find a rhythm and move forward. Tonight we ask you to join us and petition God on behalf of a special man who is as deserving of a miracle as anyone I know. Our hearts (half and whole) are with him.