
Three weeks after the surgery, we now know more. The growth was superficial — for that, I give thanks. But it was high-grade, and that word brings its own weight.
The doctors gave us options: another surgery soon to clear anything left behind, or wait three months and see if it returns.
I’ve chosen to wait.
It was not an easy decision. On one hand, the tumour demands swift action. On the other, the dementia quietly worsens with each disruption. The first surgery already pushed his memory further from reach and the days after were harder than I let on. Another procedure so soon could unravel even more. And I can’t put him through that. Not when the risk is still only a “maybe.”
I found myself weighing one urgency against another — and wondering, what would we rather hold on to? The answer wasn’t simple. Both paths carry risk. Both feel unfinished. But we’ve done what we could. The growth is out. We took the right steps, asked the questions, listened closely. And now, I place what remains in God’s hands.
There comes a moment when we must step back — not in surrender, but in reverence — and allow an opportunity for God’s grace to enter and do the rest.
I believe He already knows the road ahead. I’ve always asked for the wisdom to choose well, and now I ask for grace — grace to live with this choice, and peace to accept whatever it brings.
I’m not asking for miracles. Just strength. Just enough light for the next step. I want to preserve what we still have — the moments still within our reach — rather than chase after certainty and lose more of him in the process.
I trust that God will give us what we need, when we need it.
And for now, that is enough.
