"It's a possibility, but there's no way to be sure."
"So, what do we do about it?"
"Treatments vary from patient to patient. We would just wait and keep an eye on it in some cases, but we are beyond that now.” I wanted to throw my hands up and scream—to stop the doctor from saying the words he was about to say. Still before I could react, he continued, “With the size, location, and the condition of the aneurysm, I believe Raelyn must undergo surgery immediately."
And there it was.
The very words I’d been dreading to hear.
I’d run from them for almost two years, and now they’d finally caught up to me.
My father tried his best to remain calm as he asked, "What kind of surgery?"
"There are two options. One would be clipping the aneurism. With this method, we would go through the scalp and use an endoscope to clip off the weakened spot of the artery.” My mind had gone blank, and I could barely understand him as he said, “Once the surgery is complete, a small metal plate will be used to secure the surgical site."
"And the other option?" Dad pushed.
"There's also a procedure called coiling." He took a quick breath, then continued, "It's much less invasive and more common. The patient will receive a general anesthetic, and a catheter will be used to guide thin wires up and into the aneurysm. These wires will be coiled into a mesh ball, and blood clots that form around this coil will prevent the aneurysm from breaking open and bleeding."
Dad sounded hopeful as he asked, "Which option would you suggest?"
"I would have to study her chart again, but I think it's safe to say that coiling would be her best option."
I could tell by the look in my father’s eyes that he was about to push for the surgery, but he didn't have the complete picture yet. So I asked the doctor, "What are the risks with this type of surgery?"
"Well, there's always the possibility that some neurological complications might arise. Some patients have trouble with memory and coordination, but those usually get better over time." His tone grew grim as he continued, "Blood clots, infection, speech and vision problems, and seizures are also possible, but I assure you, the risk of not having the repair outweighs any that come with the surgery."
"What do you mean by speech and vision problems?"
"It's all about the location of the aneurysm." The doctor cleared his throat before continuing, "It's rare, but in cases like yours where the aneurysm is so close to the optic nerve, the surgical procedure can cause blurred or double vision—even blindness. But like I said, it's rare."
"So, if I have this surgery, there is a chance that I could lose my vision or my speech?"
"There is a possibility."
"I just don't understand how we got to this point." My father ran his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. "How did we not know?"
"I knew." Dad's eyes narrowed with confusion at me. "Well, I knew there was a possibility."
"But how?"
"I started having symptoms about two years ago," I admitted. "Some odd tingling sensations, a dull pain behind my eye, and a few dizzy spells here and there. At first, I thought they were nothing and would go away on their own, but then they got worse."
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"I don't know ... I guess I didn't want to worry you."
"Oh, Rae." Mom stepped over to me and took my hand in hers. "We're your parents. It's our job to worry."
"I wasn't even sure we had anything to worry about. I went to see a neurologist and had another scan done, but I was too scared to go back and get my results. I didn't see the point in worrying you, so I kept it to myself and prayed it would go away—which obviously didn't work."
The doctor pursed his lips as he replied, "Unfortunately, it's extremely rare for an aneurysm to just go away on its own. That's why we must get this surgery scheduled immediately and—"
All the fears I’d had as a child came rushing back, and I could barely breathe as I thought about all the things I’d seen in those textbooks. The pictures. The descriptions. The horror stories. It was too awful to fathom, and I wanted no part of it, so I told the doctor, "That won't be necessary. I don’t want the surgery."
Dad looked at me like I’d lost my mind as he gasped. “What?”
“I’m not having the surgery,” I repeated.
"The hell you say," Conor's voice boomed from the doorway.
Dad turned to see who'd intruded on our conversation, and after giving Conor a quick once over, he snapped, "Can I help you with something?"
"I'm here to see Rae."
"And you are?"
"This is Conor, Dad. He's the guy I've been seeing."