18. Love Never Ends

2/28/19

Surgery had started. Prayers and phone calls and messages and friends poured in. The waiting room was filled with chanting devotees - all my close Dallas friends came. Thank you for coming. I wasn’t very conscious of who was there; I had entered a weird state a bit - a lot of mental pain and yet a feeling of being carried and totally calm. I had even forgotten about my other son, Nitai, who was wandering the halls and playing with the little kids who had come with their mommies. He was also a bit delirious, he said later.

My Mati and Kunji were struggling as well - I think Mati almost fainted. Rupa Prabhu was walking them in the hallway and he was crying on and off. Rtadhvaja Swami sat there the entire time I believe. They gave us a phone to hold; they would call us with updates on that phone. They called every hour. I think Rupa Prabhu took the calls. The six hours turned to seven. My father, my mother, my Mati, BB Govinda Swami, Bir Krishna Maharaj, Giriraj Maharaj, Deena Bandhu prabhu, and many more high class Prabhupada disciples were calling, praying and here with us. It was very calming for me to know. And yet, simultaneously the most searing pain ever. A very weird experience.

There was another mom who’s daughter was also undergoing brain surgery as well. She was crying. I listened to her story and tried to give her strength. I wasn’t crying. Eerily calm, I felt. Krishna is here and I trusted Him. Thank God. In the past, I haven’t trusted Him like that. And yet, I was aware of the acute sharp numbing pain in my mind and body. My baby was going under the knife. In his brain.

After writing the surgery poem (next blog post) right after the surgery started, I tried to chant.. and talk with the people around.

Finally, the neurosurgeon pulled us into a side room. It was over. It was successful. The tumor tendrils had been stuck around the healthy brain tissue so they were unable to remove it. But they were able to get some of it out and will send it for a sample. But it was the best possible outcome they could have hoped for, she said. We listened gratefully, and then I collapsed, a heap, into my sister’s arms.