Spiritual Experiences from the Brain

Prayer is Just as Sharp as the Scalpel

As he drew near to Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging; and hearing a multitude going by, he inquired what this meant. They told him, “Jesus of Nazareth is passing by.” And he cried, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” And those who were in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent; but he cried out all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” And Jesus stopped, and commanded him to be brought to him; and when he came near, he asked him, “What do you want me to do for you?” He said, “Lord, let me receive my sight.” And Jesus said to him, “Receive your sight; your faith has made you well.” And immediately he received his sight and followed him, glorifying God; and all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.

Luke 19:35-43

 

I can’t quite remember exactly when it was that I started praying for my patients, but I think it may have been right after I operated on Dennis Parker.

Dennis had been experiencing some headaches and ultimately underwent a MRI scan of the brain. This showed he had a tumor at the base of his skull, just underneath the frontal part of his brain and immediately behind his eyes.

Surgery proved to be difficult because there was an extensive amount of hemorrhage from the tumor. Even so, I was able to control the bleeding (or so I thought) and I sent a sample of tissue to the pathologist.

Fifteen minutes later the pathologist called into the operating room after having examined the sample of the tissue under the microscope. He said he wasn’t 100% certain of the diagnosis but in view of the Dennis’ history of cancer he believed it represented a metastasis or spread of the cancer to the brain.

I struggled to remove the tumor, not only because of the hemorrhage but because the frontal part of the brain was swollen and was restricting my ability to expose and see the tumor. Nonetheless, after I had resected what I thought represented a majority of the tumor I decided to close, since further efforts to remove what was left ran the risk of damaging his already swollen brain. And given the likely diagnosis, Dennis would receive radiation to treat what was left.

After I wrote my postoperative orders and dictated my operative note I went to check on Dennis in the Recovery Room. He was awake, talking fine and moving his arms and legs but something didn’t seem right. He appeared to be looking at me but I wasn’t sure he could see me.

I put up two fingers and asked him how many fingers I had up. He said he didn’t know. I asked him if he could see my fingers, and he said ‘no’. I asked him if he could see me. He said ‘no’. I asked him if he could see anything and he said ‘no’. What also seemed somewhat strange was that Dennis did not appear as upset as you would think he should have been.

For an instant, I felt panicked, but as I had been trained I immediately put this out of my mind. There was no place for fear, because that led to uncertainty and that would lead to an inability to act and I knew I had better act quickly or Dennis would be blind for life.

I obtained a CT scan as this could be done quickly. The scan revealed a massive hemorrhage in the area of the tumor, which was twice as big as the initial size of the tumor itself. As a result there was a critical degree of pressure on the nerves that transmitted Dennis’ sight from his eyes to his brain.

I immediately took Dennis back to operating room and prepped him for his second operation of the day although it was now well into the night. The first surgery took 7 hours and I had no idea how long this one would be.

I reopened my previous incision, but this time I enlarged the opening in the skull, extending it to the left side so that the swollen brain I encountered earlier that day would not restrict what I needed to see.

To be certain that this time, I would not have any difficulty in removing the blood clot, I also removed a portion of the frontal part of the brain (lobe) on the right side. I knew with at least 95% certainty that Dennis’ speech area was located in the left frontal lobe, so removing this part of his right frontal lobe would not cause any speech deficit or aphasia.

As expected I now had an excellent view of what I needed to see.

The thing about taking a patient emergently back to the operating room is that your priorities change dramatically and most times this is a good thing. Rather than becoming overly worried about damaging the smallest amount of normal brain, you charge through to the immediate task at hand. After all it’s now truly a matter of life and death. Truth be told, the exposure that I now had is what I should have had the first time around. As a result I performed the second surgery in only a fraction of the time.

I then proceeded to remove the blood clot and the remaining tumor, thus resecting easily 98% of the remaining tumor and relieving 100% of the pressure on the optic nerves coming from Dennis’ eyes. Even so, I was not certain that he would ever see again. Following this surgery Dennis gave me little indication to the contrary as he still wasn’t able to see.

Nevertheless, I had done my job to the best of my abilities and so I figured it really was up to God now. I went home, had something to eat, relaxed a bit and then went to bed. But before I fell asleep, I prayed. I prayed that God would allow Dennis to see again in spite of the fact that my initial inability to remove the tumor completely, had resulted in his blindness to begin with.

The following day I went to check on Dennis in the ICU and what I witnessed was miraculous. He could see. Not only that, but he could see well!

I realize that many people and perhaps most at least in the medical field would believe that recovery of his vision was explainable simply by the fact that the pressure on his optic nerves that caused his blindness in the first place was relieved, and that enough time had not elapsed to cause permanent nerve damage.

I am also certain many will criticize me because I refuse to believe this. Dennis did not just have visual loss, he was completely blind. Not only that, but shining a light in his eyes failed to elicit the normal reflex response in either eye which indicated severe damage to the optic nerves.

Yes, I acted quickly and probably relieved that critical degree of pressure within several hours, but my faith tells me that not only did God act through my hands in that operating room but he also responded to my prayers as well.

From that point on whenever I would perform a complicated brain surgery or perhaps an operation after which I was not convinced I had helped that particular patient, I would pray that God would take over where I may have failed.

People pray for a lot of different reasons. Many times it can be for selfish gain, as I can personally attest to. But as I contemplate about the importance of prayer, I am reminded of interactions of human experience; if I am asked by someone for help, not for him or herself but for someone else I am more likely to feel compassion and a desire to lend a hand even if it requires a degree of sacrifice.

So why would God feel any different? And what is more, if I truly believe my prayers are more powerful than the actions of my mind and hands then why wouldn’t God be more likely moved towards compassion.

    

 Therefore, when Mary came where Jesus was, she saw Him, and fell at His feet, saying to Him, “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.” When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and was troubled, and said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to Him, “Lord come and see.” Jesus wept.

John 11:32-35.

 

This doesn’t mean we ignore the abilities that we possess which could potentially alter the outcome of the situation at hand. After all, these are gifts from God and are meant to be used. But at some point I have to acknowledge that my abilities are limited, and without God’s help there will be times that I will fail to help others.

I realize many of my patients have incurable diseases and will die in spite of my surgical skills and my prayers and that is when I must also believe that God has His reasons for allowing these events to occur, and that I can’t possibly hope to understand them. However, He still has blessed me with compassion and though I may not be able to cure their affliction I have come to understand that I can at least lend a comforting and hopeful hand.

Oh, and the tumor that Dennis had…it turned out to be a benign tumor of the pituitary gland!

Walking on Water

'but whoever denies me before men, I also will

deny before my Father who is in heaven.

Matthew 10:33

When people are sick they will say most anything if it means getting well, and if I should happen to ‘cure’ them of their affliction, they often heap ‘praise’ upon me that makes me feel at the very least uncomfortable.

They will say things like, ‘you walk on water’ or you’re a miracle worker. Most times when this happens I am caught off guard and I struggle for something polite to say. I have said things like ‘no, last I checked only two people were able to do that and I wasn’t one of them’, or ‘I'm not the one who works the miracles’.

I often pray that the Holy Spirit will inspire me and give me the correct words to say but it doesn’t always seem that my words are said with conviction.

The odd thing about this type of encounter, is that when these patients say these things, they seem visibly upset when I deflect their ‘words of gratitude’. I sort of understand this because I may appear to them as ungrateful. But while I am truly appreciative of their recognition of what I had done for them, I just can’t accept what they are saying as a ‘gospel truth’!

Perhaps they say these things because they are so overcome with emotion they don’t know what to say. But in part it may be because their faith is not strong enough to acknowledge where the true source of healing comes from. The irony, of course, is that many years ago I would have completely agreed with them.

Human emotion being what it is, we like to be complemented on our accomplishments, particularly when it involves saving someone’s life. But I am always mindful of the fact that I am able to do what I do because I have been blessed by God with intelligence, talent and a 'sixth sense'.

On the other hand, there are other patients that have said to me, ‘I thank God for putting you in my life to help me’, and those times I am in complete agreement.

Recently however, I took care of a woman who said something that really startled me.

Theresa Purvis had been diagnosed with and treated for breast and lung cancer, and surprisingly had done well. That is until she developed a headache and became somewhat confused. An MRI of her brain did not reveal a metastatic tumor, per se, but evidence that the tumor may have spread somewhat surreptitiously to cerebrospinal pathway around the brain.

I was asked by her oncologist to perform a simple procedure, a spinal tap, to obtain some fluid which would be analyzed to see if in fact the cancer had spread to the brain.

To be sure that Theresa would be as comfortable as possible and that I wouldn’t encounter any difficulty with the procedure, I arranged to have it done in the operating room instead of at her bedside on the regular ward. This way she could be easily sedated and I would have available all the supplies I might need.

Everything went very smoothly, and I was done in less than 15 minutes. Of course Theresa had been lightly sedated but when I stood up and leaned over her to tell her I was done, she had a surprised look on her face. Amazed, she said, ‘you’re kidding, right?’ I said, ‘no, I’m done’. She then said boldly, ‘you are God’!

‘No’, I replied. ‘I’m just here to give Him a hand’.

Perhaps it was the medication she received or maybe it was the cancer that had infiltrated her brain, but she appeared to dismiss my remark and turned back to lie down on the stretcher.

Nonetheless, afterwards I felt deeply grateful that for the first time I was able to say the right thing at the right time, regardless of whether the patient was inspired by my remark or not. After all there were others nearby, nurses, doctors and perhaps a patient or two that may have overheard what I said.

In the end we never may know the full impact of what we say or do on the lives of others. All we can really do is try to be the best version of ourselves and have faith that others follow our example.