- Couldn't they just operate?
- Couldn't they just do chemo or radiation?
- Couldn't they just suck out the tumor?
- Couldn't they just chop out little pieces and let her brain grow?
- Couldn't they just kill it with lasers?
It was really hard to hear all of these pseudo-options because it made me feel even more helpless. Especially early on, when there was very little hope of any possible treatment, I wanted everyone to be at peace with her prognosis and enjoy her. I wanted her to be surrounded by happiness and laughter for however long she had. False hope of a cure was not helpful to me or Scarlett.
Getting the second surgeon's opinion was one of the scariest parts of this whole process. We tried to prepare ourselves for what we expected him to say; we kept saying to each other, "It can't get any worse." If he couldn't operate, then we already knew what the path ahead would look like. But I was terrified of what it would be like if he changed the plan, gave us hope after I had made peace.
Of course, we were so grateful to hear there was a chance for Scarlett to come through this. It was shocking and scary, but also gave me a new energy and determination for her.
Once there was a plan for treatment, the Couldn't They Justs faded away. We are all committed to providing Scarlett with whatever she needs in the future, but we leave the neurosurgery to the doctors.