7 Hours, 1 Tumor, and 100 Prayers Later

I woke up on surgery day feeling terrified and oddly at peace. There’s a strange calm that comes when you’ve made the right decision, even if the road ahead is uncertain.

The surgery itself was supposed to take four hours. It ended up taking seven. My tumor was close to a major vein in my brain, and because my surgeon had also done my stent procedure, he worked carefully to avoid complications. By the time I woke up, I was groggy but alive—and ready to bring back my sass.

The first thing I remember is asking about my incision. It stretches nearly ear to ear, but my surgeon promised it wouldn’t be noticeable under my hair. He kept his word, and honestly? It’s kind of cool.

Recovery was full of surprises. My eye was swollen shut, which felt strange but was expected. I didn’t have the headache I feared, though my face felt like it had been through a boxing match. My kids visited me that night—Kinley cried when she saw my face, Maddy was relieved, and Max? He jumped on my bed, noticed my eye, and promptly jumped off again. Kids keep it real.

Surgery taught me a lot about resilience, faith, and humor. I still can’t believe it all started with an eye exam less than a year ago. But looking back, I know this journey was exactly what it needed to be.

Sometimes, you don’t get the path you planned. You get the one you need.