The Goodness of God
“I will never chase kids on the playground ever again,” I told myself on October 24, 2024. The decision came after a game of tag with Alice. She stood halfway up the twisty slide when our eyes met. Being “found,” she squealed with joy. Being “it,” I took a step towards her. Eager to retreat, she leaned back, flipping into a five-foot drop. The back of her head landed first, smacking down on a metal pole.
After a long, muted, unusual sounding cry, she looked at me with disappointment. “You were supposed to catch me, Mommy.”
Holding her in my arms, I called Shelvis. My call interrupted his conversation with a doctor about Jordan’s health. Over the phone, the doctor talked me through the symptoms of a concussion. Her guidance brought comfort into a scary situation.
The next day, we headed to the Emergency Room at the Medical University of South Carolina (MUSC). While the medical team frequently apologized to ER patients for the long wait, I remained grateful that my child could show up unannounced, get an MRI, and have it read by well-trained experts, all in the same evening. What a gift.
While sitting in the ER hallway, three doctors visited us. The first said something like, “The fall did not cause a brain bleed or a crack in her skull, which is great news… Incidentally, we found that her brain is structured a bit differently. It is not what you would find in a textbook, but that is ok, sometimes that happens.”
Alice’s heart is also structured differently. After following it closely, though, the doctors now feel she will be fine. Consequently, the first doctor’s words did not cause alarm.
The next doctor passed by quickly, throwing in a new word. “Sorry it is taking so long to get you out of here. We are trying to set you up with a referral to neurosurgery for the aneurysms in her brain.”
“Aneurysms?” I asked the third doctor. Aneurysms felt alarming.
“The aneurysms are not necessarily going to cause a problem,” she explained, “but you need to keep an eye on them.”
At our follow-up appointment on November 6th, the neurosurgeon at MUSC asked “What did they tell you in the ER?” I did my best to explain.
“The aneurysms are the least of your worries,” he shared. “Alice has Moyamoya disease.”
Due to this rare condition, Alice’s arteries did not grow properly on the right side of her brain. “It is really surprising Alice’s body developed symmetrically,” he added.
I held it together for the next 20 minutes, looking at pictures of Alice’s brain, asking a myriad of questions and trying to distract a very energetic 4-year-old.
I held it together until we discussed a timeline for surgery.
“When would she have the surgery,” I inquired, “when she is seven?”
With compassion in his voice, he replied “as soon as we can get it scheduled.”
I gently placed my hands on Alice’s sweet head. I wanted to protect it. Tears flowed.
After a quiet moment, I commented, “I guess it was good thing she fell?”
“I was thinking that, but I wasn’t going to say it,” he responded.
Most people discover Moyamoya disease after enduring a stroke. Consequently, the route leading to Alice’s diagnosis felt miraculous.
We remained in the US this year to address some health issues. We had no idea this would be one of them. Only God knew this reason.
The next weeks swirled with emotions and Google searches on Moyamoya disease. We also started to bring more medical experts into the conversation. A highly recommended neurosurgeon at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta (CHOA) advised us to get a more detailed MRI “with contrast,” to assess the blood flow in Alice’s brain.
So, on January 29th, Shelvis took Alice to CHOA. The results clearly indicated that the right side of her brain lacks the necessary blood. She could have a stroke at any time.
While discussing the next steps towards surgery, the neurosurgeon at CHOA asked, with a bit of wonder in his voice, “If she had never fallen, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, right?”
Shelvis and I answered in unison, “Right.”
“Incredible,” he concluded. Incredible.
Alice is scheduled for surgery on the 11th of February. We would appreciate your prayers. You, our beloved community, have prayed us through several scary moments. Together, we have witnessed God’s goodness in many incredible ways. May this healing be one more. Amen