RADIANCE FROM ABOVE
Annie Cyriac, Karunattu.


God has not promised
Flower-strewn pathways
All our lives through
But God has promised
Strength for the day
Grace for the trials
Undying love…………..

My heart welled up with hope as I read this poster outside my room at CMC Hospital Vellore.
A routine scan taken on August 15th, a month ago, at Bharath Hospital, Kottayam, revealed that my brain tumour had grown to a size of 3.2 cm. This was upsetting. The surgery for the Meningioma excision was just ten months ago. Meningiomas don’t spread but they have this ugly habit of growing right back. Expecting this, the doctors here had advised an SRS (Stereotactic radioactive surgery). Since it was not an emergency then, we had booked a date for the procedure to be done in September.
[SRS is a onetime radioactive surgery that would arrest the growth of the tumour. It allows precisely focused high powered rays on a small area. Both the nonsurgical and radiation oncology team work together for the evaluation and treatment of each patient. At present this treatment is not available in any hospital in Kerala.]

Ever since August 15th, my husband had been walking around with a ticking bomb in his heart. Meanwhile, I went about my business blissfully, unaware of the magnitude or consequences of the growing tumour. I was mentally prepared for the SRS but chose not to think about till it was time.
Onam was a grand affair with close relatives and family. That night we left for Vellore and arriving there the next morning, I was admitted under Dr Ari .G. Chacko, the half German neurosurgeon who is rated as the best in the country and the third best in Asia. My scan reports were studied and the doctors were doubtful if an SRS would be effective on a tumour that had grown to this size. When they suggested a re-surgery, we were stunned, speechless. Opening the skull for the third time, in a gap of ten months was unthinkable. Another MRI was scheduled for midnight, after which the doctors would give their final verdict.
The waiting period was awful. My husband and I clung to God. I prayed that if the Lord could wither a fig tree to its roots, he could shrivel my tumour just a bit with a look. Oh, how I prayed for that look! But it was my husband’s unshaken belief that bowled me over. After praying, he typed out a message in his phone that the SRS was successfully over. He meant to send this message to our dear ones the next day. We decided to believe firmly that whatever you pray for and believe, would be done. (Mat.Ch21:19-22). Lo, behold! At one AM in the morning the MRI reports showed that the volume of the tumour was within the parameters required for the SRS. HURRAY, God shrunk my tumour! He intervened on my behalf to work a miracle.
At six in the morning, I was wheeled into the Neuro Department, where a cheerful senior nurse awaited me. She explained that I was going to be fitted with a heavy metal head frame. After measuring, marking and a trial run, the frame was finally ready to be fitted on my head. Following four shots of anesthesia, two on my temples and two behind my head, the frame was screwed on to my head. The gentle doctor apologized for the pain he was causing but I said I didn’t mind the pain as long as they did a perfect job. In truth, it didn’t hurt much. The nurse remarked that in her long career, she had not come across such a patient who hadn’t even flinched. Afterwards, Dr Mazda, the Parsi neurosurgeon, remarked that he had just completed his first painless frame -fitting. I thanked God in my heart for sending his angels to protect me. [Psalm 91:11]

The head frame was a protection too, for all other parts of my brain. Tampering with it would alter the position and that would be disastrous. Feeling akin to an astronaut, wearing a head piece, I was shifted to the ICU after a spiral CT scan. Meanwhile the neurosurgeons, the radiologist and the physicist, joined heads for the planning of the procedure. 
Five hours later, with a head that throbbed and an empty stomach that rumbled, I was taken to a dimly lit room with an assortment of sophisticated gadgets. Soon there was a flood of lights and the physicist examined my head to give his approval. A few wires were then clipped and my head was accurately positioned into something that resembled a scan machine. The radiologist told me not to worry and that they would be outside watching me. I was aware of a camera on the wall focused on me. The radioactive surgery began and all I could hear was an electronic drone and the thump of my heart. Each second seemed like eternity. But I was not afraid for I remembered Psalm23:4 (Even if I go through the deepest darkness, I will not be afraid, Lord, for you are with me.)At the end of six minutes, the whole team came in. Next came the painful ordeal of removing the screws and the head frame. Finally it was all over and I heaved a huge sigh of relief.
It was only a day after my SRS that I could personally meet Dr Ari G Chacko the Chief. He told me that the effect of the radiation could be seen only over a period of time. He advised that annual MRIs were mandatory as there still was a 10% chance of the tumour growing back. But with God on my side I have every reason to look at the sunny side of life- the 90% chance.
People give me sympathetic looks and ask my husband if my hair has fallen out after the Chemotherapy. ‘IT’S NOT CANCER!” my mind screams. But I don’t blame them. I was as ignorant a year ago. It was my husband who suggested I write about SRS. So people could get their perspectives right.
God could have made my pathway smooth. He could have allowed my treatment to go on as planned. But how then would we see the glory of God? How would our faith increase so?
Life is not a bed of roses but I sure can say that everything has happened for the best. I have toughened up. I am more compassionate and tolerant. At the hospital I met so many others less fortunate than me- Sindhu whose lung had to be removed, newly married Soumya who is totally paralyzed after an accident and five year old Afisa from Bangladesh who awaits her brain surgery. I pray for them all. Now I am at peace. I am happier than ever now that I know there is nothing that the Lord and I can’t do together.
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and think of the chemical warfare going on inside my head. It’s slightly scary but I am taking it all in my stride. God bless my loving friends and family who care so much and my mother-in-law who has been a pillar of strength all throughout. I thank the Lord for my church and parish priest, for their incessant prayers. But most of all I thank God for my husband who has stood by me stoically. Without him I doubt if I could have made it so far.
I know that one day I’ll look back upon this phase in my life and muse how reassuring it is, that in the journey of my life through my walk with God only one set of foot prints would be imprinted on the sands of time; The foot prints of the Lord’s as he had been carrying me in his arms during the difficult phase of my life.

2 Corint 1:10 From such terrible dangers of death He saved us and will save us; and we have placed our hope in Him that He will save us again.

Here is a picture of Afisa, who was awaiting her surgery........And me, the day after the SRS at Velore hospital.....

{Written in November 2013}