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Wisdom in the WORD 
I started writing out some of last year’s events a few weeks ago, so I’ll try and start from the beginning of that process.
January 1
A year ago today…
I was in a lot of pain. I had been suffering with increasing pain and weakness for nearly 4 months. My head pounded, I could “hear” roaring sounds in the back of my head, I was light-headed when I stood. I spent most days lying down and had done that for weeks. I was rarely fully aware of what was going on around me.
After a failed attempt to patch a spinal fluid leak on December 13, a possible yet unconfirmed cause of my symptoms, Gina decided it was time to drive me to Duke Hospital in Durham, nearly 4 hours away. This had been suggested some time earlier by a local neurologist. She and Jacob were scheduled to go to Six Flags in GA with my sister-in-law Lucie, but she opted to let Jacob go alone.
Gina called my Mom, Anna-Belle, and asked her to accompany her, and we headed for Duke late that afternoon. I don’t remember much of the trip, as I was lying down in the back seat and either sleeping or unconscious. I called out a few landmarks that they could look for, as I’d driven that stretch of road many times for work. That’s the only memory I have of that day.
I was checked into the ER at 8:30PM. Soon it was confirmed that I had a spinal fluid leak. A procedure was scheduled for January 3 to patch it.
I am so thankful that Gina had the mindfulness to drive me to Duke on New Year’s Day 2020. Today is a Happy New Day, a Happy New Year!
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
GREAT is Your faithfulness.
Lamentations 3:22-23
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January 3, 2020
I had a procedure at Duke Hospital to temporarily stop (at least slow down) a spinal fluid leak. The leak was discovered after about 4 months of worsening symptoms and no answers from doctors here locally. I was released to come home on January 4. Somehow I had the mental awareness to jot down the following on January 6, a year ago today.
“Feeling better after the surgery at Duke earlier this week. I’m still really tired each day, but headaches are gone, which is a great sign and blessing. They discovered bilateral subdural hematomas, which are dangerous and explain some of my recent symptoms. They also found 3 areas in my back where cerebrospinal fluid has evidently been leaking despite the earlier procedures, and they patched those. Soon I’ll have another MRI to ensure the leaks stopped after this last surgery, after which I’ll have the discs repaired. Hopefully that’ll be the end of procedures for a long time (permanently).”
I was scheduled for the back surgery at Duke on January 8, 2 days later. But by that time, things had taken a turn for the worse. I was in such bad shape, barely able to stay upright, the surgeon sent us back to the ER. Thankfully, while Gina was driving me there, Mom (Anna-Belle Groseclose) called the neurologist that had identified the leak and pinpointed its location just days earlier. She had everything lined up to admit me as soon as we arrived.
“I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you”
Hebrews 13:5
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January 9, 2020
After returning to Duke Hospital in Durham and advising them of recent terrible headaches, another CT scan was done. While the doctors had identified bilateral subdural hematomas (evidence of bleeding on both sides of my brain due to the loss of cerebrospinal fluid) a few days earlier, they were small enough that they were expected to resolve and absorb naturally back into my body. But the CT scan showed that there was continued hemorrhaging. The hematoma on the right side of my brain had grown to 4cm.
They quickly scheduled a craniotomy. This involved cutting through the skull on the right side and removing as much of the hematoma as they could. From the size of the scar, they must have cut out about 4″. While I was evidently somewhat lucid leading up to this surgery, a couple of emails I sent just prior show that I didn’t quite grasp all that was happening.
“Back at Duke overnight. Had planned on just a couple of follow-ups today, but I was having headaches again, so they looked and found one of the hematomas had grown since the last blood patch they did. That was a concern, so they did a CT scan to determine cause and now plan a mini craniotomy to remove part of skull and the blood before replacing the skull. That’s planned for about 2:30 today. Not sure anything else is planned at this point, but possible I’ll be released tomorrow and then just look for more time for everything to heal like it should.”
I even shared a video of a craniotomy with my dad and brothers as a preview of what I was about to go through:
“Variation on procedure I’m about to have done shortly, though mine is considered “minor” due to the size of the hematoma. Likely will remove part of the brain for adequate cleaning before replacing. I assume the cutting off the brain itself and then replacement doesn’t cause any memory issues.”
Glad they didn’t remove any of my brain. 🙂
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil, for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.
Psalm 23:4
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Glad indeed 🤪
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On January 13, 2020, I had yet another procedure at Duke Durham to try and slow the leaking spinal fluid, a temporary solution using a sealant injected into the membrane that holds the fluid.
Having had a craniotomy a few days earlier to deal with a hematoma, I remained in the ICU for several days. During those days, mom (Anna-Belle) continued to be with me. I had several visits from friends and family, including Gina, Raymond & Lucie, Jay & Robin, Rick & Amy, Will, Christoph & Sarah, Jeff & Sue, and others. Unfortunately, I don’t remember most of those visits, though I do have brief memories of a couple of them. I specifically recall sharing a prayer request with Rick and Amy, and knew that they would take this to the Lord.
But there was One that was constantly with me. Through the long, sleepless nights when I would watch the clock tick by for hours, minute by minute, HE was there. God. The Creator of all things. the Father. Not the idea of Him. Not the things I had learned about Him over the years. But Him, personally, in a way I had never experienced to date. His presence enveloped me, it encapsulated my mind and its wayward thoughts.
There was opportunity for fear. While I didn’t know all that was going on medically (I was out of it most of the day), my mind was active at night, and I would lie there for hours. God. He never left His throne. And yet, there He was, with me. Love. I recall days later asking God “How can I go through all this and not have any inkling of fear?” I immediately recalled one of the promises of God: “perfect love casts out fear.” God is love, and LOVE dispelled all concern, all worry, all fear.
Those nights with my Father were some of the richest in my life. The reality of who He is and the truth of His Word were embedded more deeply in my mind than ever before. The love shown by Him and by my family and friends in care and prayer to Him is a highlight of my life to date.
This is God. This is God’s family.
“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
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I’ll add more of the story soon.
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The 1st big victory I saw in dealing with my spinal fluid leak last year was when I knew the leak had been repaired, when my body could sense that it had been fixed.
The next big victory was getting the breathing tube removed. They decided to leave that in during my back surgery. But, the next day they decided it was time to try and remove it. I’d heard them talking about it, and I was excited about the idea of being rid of it and being able to drink some water, anything to drink or eat naturally.
At 1:30 in the morning they woke me up. I remember feeling like I must be lying on the floor, likely because there were at least 3 people hovering over my head and getting ready for the procedure.
A lady with a real take-charge attitude spoke loudly and clearly to me, explaining the process so I was aware and could participate. Evidently, intubation results in excess secretions in the mouth, and those are hard to clear from your airway on your own. So, the plan was to pull out the tube and immediately cut open a vial of saline solution that would spill into my throat and help clear those away. The saline would temporarily burn and cut off my ability to breathe. Immediately afterwards, I was to try and clear my throat or make some sort of noise using my vocal cords, since the breathing tube had been threaded through them, and I’d been unable to use them for a week.
The process probably only took 15 seconds, and it worked just like they said. I had to fight back the shock of the saline’s effect, but I was able to make some noises with my vocal cords, meaning there was no damage to them. Praise God!
Mom (Anna-Belle Groseclose) was with me. Even though it was the middle of the night, I was so excited to be able to talk again, that we talked for a couple of hours. I was hoarse, but I asked questions and she took time to catch me up. I remember sleeping well.
The next day, they removed the nasogastric tube, the one threaded through my nostril down to my stomach. The process of removing it was simpler and less traumatic, though a bit messy. Being 6’5″, I was honestly a bit surprised at how long the tube was; I think the nurse was too.
Things were returning to “normal.” A new normal. I think that I was as excited about the normal as I was about the new. A reboot, a big reset button had been hit in me, and I was starting to come back online.
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3 days after my back surgery last January, I was finally moved into a step-down room. I could have been moved there sooner, but a room wasn’t available.
The more spacious room made it easier for Mom (Anna-Belle Groseclose) to be in the room with me. The majority of the nights in the hospitals, she spent in a recliner right by my side, even sleeping in it. Each day she would read a Bible passage to me, she’d update me about different people that had been calling and texting her to find out how I was doing, and she would answer my questions. I was slowly piecing together the details of all that had happened the previous few weeks.
Friends and family visited as they could, though being nearly 4 hours from home made that more difficult. I remember very well the visit from Tim and Aly Bennett. They must have spent at least a couple of hours in my room. They shared about times of prayer they had had for me, insights gained into what the Lord was doing through this difficulty and some of what had been going on in their lives. Mom and I shared about the happenings while at the hospitals, and I shared what I had seen God doing within me.
I remember Aly listening to what I was sharing; after a brief moment of silence, she said “It’s as though God wanted to take you out of time.” Wow. This rung so true. God had completely cleared my schedule for the past several weeks, every responsibility, every appointment, even my ability to handle the simplest tasks was gone. I’d even lost my phone a couple of weeks earlier in Durham and had been unable to get a replacement. It was at times unsettling, particularly for Gina. She was not only taking care of our son, Jacob, and helping him with school, but she had to pick up my responsibilities like handling our finances. She had also just learned that her father had cancer and that there was little hope he would live much longer.
But God. This is a phrase that we see often in Scripture, sometimes stated just that way, other times expressed through a clear demonstration of His intervention to redirect inevitable catastrophe. God had clearly heard the prayers of so many people to see me through this, to see us through this. He had indeed taken me out of time for a time, but I was now reentering it. He had plans for the days, months and years ahead that included me, and those plans would not be stopped.
Every day I remembered the promise God had spoken to me that He would see me THROUGH this to the other end. I knew I would be different, changed, but there was a clear sense of His plan to restore me physically. So when questions and doubts started surfacing (will I ever be able to, will this pain ever go away, will my memory of that thing ever return), I recalled His promise and held onto it.
I was still awake much of the night. I guess all of the medications and disruptions had messed up my inner clock. But I had great comfort from God’s presence. Scriptures that I had memorized and read for years kept flowing through my mind, and I would “park” my mind on some of them, resting in the assurance of God’s goodness.
The words of a favorite hymn came to mind one night and expressed so well my own confidence and joy, particularly this one part:
Great is thy faithfulness
Great is thy faithfulness
Morning by morning new mercies I see
I witnessed it every day. In every situation and moment. It’s a modern day echo of the promise God made to the Israelites when they were in captivity:
“I will visit you and fulfill My good word to you, to bring you back to this place. For I know the plans that I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans for welfare and not for calamity, to give you a future and a hope.”
Jeremiah 29:10-11
But God. God is in charge. He is in control. And to know Him and acknowledge His purposes is truly liberating. Nothing escapes His notice. And He desires to know us, to live life with us. Not from afar. Not from a distant place. He is near. No matter what is happening in your life. He is a mere breath away. But God.
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After my back surgery last January, the concern shifted from low spinal fluid levels (causing low pressure headaches and other symptoms) to overproduction of spinal fluid (causing high pressure headaches). A doctor installed a port in my lower back to drain excess spinal fluid for a couple of days in order to relieve the pressure build-up. But it could take months for my body to regulate the production.
I experienced some pretty bad headaches those first couple of days after surgery. They asked me to rate my pain on a scale of 1 to 10, and there were a couple of times when it was an 8 or 9. I had never had headaches that bad. I recall the worst one lasted for about 3 hours. It waned suddenly for about 2-3 minutes, and then surged again. I understood that this was normal due to my body’s overproduction of spinal fluid, something it had likely been doing for months now trying to compensate for the leak. So I just gritted my teeth and tried to get my mind on other things. I didn’t realize that they had now given the green light for Tylenol. Once I found that out, I got on a regimen and took the max they would allow for the first couple of days.
Being vertical in the bed helped, gravity making it harder for pressure to build up in my head. But it was uncomfortable to sleep. My posture was terrible. I had been in a hospital bed for about 30 days already. Most of my days during the prior 2 months had been spent lying down. So I was constantly adjusting the height of the bed, lowering it as far as I could tolerate to get some sleep, and then raising it back and asking for more pillows to try and prop me up.
After a couple of days of recovery, it was time to start physical therapy. The first task was to sit up from a near flat position; that was a feat. From there I was to stand up. With some help I was able to push off the bed and use a walker to stand up. I felt light-headed and could only stand for a few seconds the first few times. They monitored my blood pressure along the way.
The next day, they had me stand and wanted me to try and take a few steps. They staged a seat a few feet away for me to go towards. It felt good moving, and I made it to the seat and back to the bed a couple of times. Then, as I was standing still, I noticed the lights over my bed were extra bright, and I started seeing other lights above those lights, like the aurora borealis. I turned to look out the window, and it was completely white; I knew there was a tree there, but I couldn’t see it. I told the nurses this, and they immediately sat me down. One of them tried to get my blood pressure, but couldn’t find a pulse. Another tried with the same result, even checking a couple different places. They called in a more experienced nurse, who tried for several minutes. Out of all the attempts, only 1 nurse found a pulse for long enough to measure my blood pressure. It was incredibly low. I returned to bed for the balance of that day.
They pointed out that I had orthostatic (postural) hypotension, low blood pressure resulting from standing. The doctors started talking about the transition out of the hospital and what that would look like. Due to the hypotension and how weak I was, they indicated that I would likely need to go to an in-patient rehab facility, probably for at least 2-3 weeks until I was strong enough to go home. We asked about doing this near home, but the doctors were concerned about me being 3-4 hours away from them should I experience some significant issues. Mom and I prayed about this, asked others to pray and committed this to the Lord. I was not troubled about going to a rehab facility, but was hopeful I could be close to home again.
I remember at one point feeling numb, not physically, but emotionally and mentally. Just not feeling motivated or inspired, not even sure what life would look like next. I asked the Lord if that spark, that inspiration would return, and my mind immediately went to this Scripture: “it is God who is at work in you, both to desire and to work for His good pleasure.” Philippians 2:13.
I recalled the creation story, and how from the onset God made Adam and Eve with purpose, placing them in the garden and giving them instruction on how to care for it. Not to sit idly and just take it all in. That was there too, the enjoyment of His incredible handiwork. But there was more – there was purpose within it for them and a built-in desire to fulfill that purpose. Wow, there it was in black and white. I knew then that God, in His way and timing, was going to work in me to instill the desire and to lead me into the actions that I should live out.
The next day, I was ready to try walking again. The therapists advised that after I stand, I should stand still for up to 30 seconds before trying to move, moving my toes and feet a bit in place. With this technique, I was soon walking around the room. And then out into the hallway. And then down the halls, going further and further every time. A nurse was always with me, and I used a walker, but soon I found that I was just pushing the walker, not even relying on it. I was still unsteady, but I could feel myself gaining strength.
Before my very eyes I was seeing God’s hand, cultivating a desire to be and to do. What an incredibly active and engaged Father I have!
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February 4.
My mom and I met many wonderful people during our stay at the hospitals. The heart-felt, genuine care of the nurses was especially touching.
While Gina and Mom (Anna-Belle Groseclose) were in a waiting room during my craniotomy, a lady approached them, because she noticed Gina’s tears. Gina shared what was going on, and the lady offered to pray with her. Turns out that although she now lived in VA, she had attended the same high school as Gina! Her husband was also in surgery. They enjoyed a time of sharing and encouraging each other.
Each day at 7AM there was a scheduled shift change, and the nurses of that ward would gather together to talk through specifics for the next crew of nurses. During the last week or so, Mom was invited to attend those sessions, which lasted 20-30 minutes. Nurses worked 12-hour shifts, so I had 2 each day. I often had the same nurses for 2-3 days in a row. Anytime there was a change in nurses, the new nurse’s name and information would get written on a whiteboard in my room. When there was a nurse that had not been with me yet, the outgoing nurse would bring in the new one and introduce them to me. I counted up roughly 40 nurses that attended me during my 2 hospital stays.
One morning, the outgoing nurse came in and wrote down a new nurse’s name an contact information on the board. Chi Chi. I wondered what kind of name that was. Later that morning Chi Chi arrived. She had a big smile and a distinct accent. She was not Caucasian, but had fairly light skin. I spent the first couple of interactions trying to figure out where she might be from, but I couldn’t place it. So I finally asked her – Nigerian.
I was still on quite a few medications, and my vitals were being checked regularly, so Chi Chi came by often over a span of 2-3 shifts. One day I said “Chi Chi, you’re always smiling. Why is that?” She turned, smiled and said “Yeah, you gotta smile.” She went on to give God credit for the reason she smiled. Our shared faith was an encouragement.
In the last couple of days, I had progressed in physical therapy wonderfully. I could readily stand and took several long hallway walks each day. I told one of the occupational therapists that I’d like to get the shag carpet off my face, and she tracked down a surgical razor that could do just that. She let me spend 30-45 minutes trimming what I could at the mirror. But I was getting tired, and it was hard for me to get it all. I also had terrible sores around my mouth from the week that I had the breathing tube in. She took the time to finish the rest of the shaving for me.
The doctor’s and physical therapists conferred, and they agreed that I had made enough progress to go home. Not to a rehab facility. Home. I would need some physical therapy, but they would arrange to have that done at home. I was excited.
The morning of the day I was to be discharged, it was pretty quiet. At one point we heard a knock on my door, and we welcomed the unknown guest in. He was a young chaplain, the first I had seen during the entire stay. He was very reticent and soft spoken. We soon learned that it was partly because he’d only been on the job for a few months, and each day he faced all kinds of beliefs and religions; he never knew if he was going to be welcomed or what sort of beliefs he would encounter.
Protocol dictates that he can’t pry too much into the reasons we were there or my current condition, but we were ready to share the amazing adventure we’d been on. I remember kicking off the discussion with Romans 8:28, which says that God causes all things to work together for the good of those who love Him. Mom and I both shared the story while he sat, taking it all in, often with a blank stare and expressions of awe. We were uninhibited in sharing our own faith, crediting God with the amazing happenings along the way and sharing various scriptures.
It took us a little while to figure out what the chaplain’s own beliefs were. I think Mom and I were asking him more questions than he was of us. But we soon learned that he was a Christian and shared the core beliefs that we have. He was amazed to hear not only what had happened, but out outlook. He was from California, but it turns out he used to live in Leicester for several years- the same little town in western North Carolina that both of us lived in. Was this not God’s doing!? On our last day, just hours before discharge, a chaplain that had lived in Leicester.
After we prayed together, he told us about the different services that the chaplains provide, and made a point of mentioning communion. My ears perked up. Communion!? I told him that I would really like that and asked if he might have time to share it with us. He had the time, so left to gather the elements. While he was gone, a nurse came by and talked about a few details. By the time the chaplain made it back, the nurse was gone; our entire time with him was uninterrupted.
We shared communion together. It was the most emotional communion I’d ever participated in. Here I was, in the hospital. I’d been under the care of many people, but most importantly under the care of the Great Physician. The One who spent His own life for me and for my healing, who died a brutal death for the sake of the world. I cried tears of joy and exhilaration at being able to spend the end of our time there in remembrance of our Savior.
Soon, my good friend Jesse Enloe arrived. He’d made a point of asking if he could make the near 5-hour drive from his house to pick me up and deliver me safely home. Mom had her car, but it was a good idea to have someone else along to help me. We packed up, I was wheeled out to Jesse’s car and we hit the road. We stopped every hour so that I could get out and walk to prevent blood clots. We had a great time of catching up. We even passed our friends Christoph and Sarah Stucker on the interstate, my wave letting them know that I was doing well.
A year ago today, we made it home safely. A long chapter closed.
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‘Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.’
John 21:25
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