About two weeks ago, one of Kelsea’s friends had a brain aneurysm.  A beautiful, healthy 12-year old girl.  Kelsea had just been at a sleepover birthday party with her two nights before. 

Kelsea and her other friends were broken-hearted, worried, sleepless, tearful.  The counselors at her school have been exceptional, pulling in Kelsea and her other friend who were closest pals with S to talk with them individually, instead of with the rest of the 6th grade.  And they’ve asked her to come back several times to check on her.  Kelsea’s been taking it well, talking with me, with her friends.  One of the hardest parts has been not knowing.  S’s family has been very quiet, not divulging much of S’s status until there was something more definite to divulge.

On Friday, there was word that S was awake, out of her post-surgery drug-induced coma, and wanting to see her friends. That was wonderful news.  So today, Kelsea and I and one of her friends and her friend’s mom drove down to see S.  It was hard, wonderful, poigniant.  She is still on some pretty serious medication – I don’t know what.  The scar on her skull, partly hidden by her hair, is harsh.  One eye is drooping.  She is  barely able to walk and is exhausted.  But she loved seeing Kelsea.  It was a little awkward, Kelsea not quite knowing what to say, so I gently encouraged her to hold S’s hand, give her a hug, tell her about the choir concert.  Once S realized Kelsea was there, she kept saying her name, asking to be next to her, reaching for her hand, almost to the exclusion of their other friend.  And when S reached over and said to Kelsea, “You are like my sister,” I think we all got teary.  S was asking about all her friends, about school, telling the girls that she was having to learn to walk like a little baby. Her cognitive functions seem to be very, very good for all she’s been through.

S’s dad, two grandmothers, and small sister were there, with her dad being positive, helpful, brave and treating S just as he always has, which is just as it should be, and just as I guided Kelsea to do.  I couldn’t ask him anything, as I didn’t want to put him on the spot, perhaps being unable to say something in front of S.

Kelsea wants to go back every day, and I’ve promised we’ll go next week.  I can’t help but feel for her family.  I won’t even imagine going through that experience with Kelsea, and I’ll say a small prayer to the gods to protect her, and ask that this challenge never be to proposed to her – or to me.

But it is strengthening to watch injuries, whether they be of the brain, the body or the heart, heal.  Faith plays a big role.  The future can be bright regardless of the circumstances of the moment, if you just keep your hopes high and your faith in the universe strong.