The ten hour ordeal yesterday was worth every trying minute - fighting traffic among those emulating Jeff Gordon, dodging gores that double-dog dared me to cross them, following written directions to Emory Clinic when my love language does not include the words north, south, east or west. Not to mention that my relationship with the On Star lady became somewhat strained because her expert guidance was not sought. Nonetheless, the effort and time involved produced an answer to prayer.
We have a diagnosis. * (see below)
While not common, the two Neuro Opthalmologists who examined Chase yesterday were familiar with the unusual symptoms he presented. After a four hour exam, not only did we learn the name of Chase’s condition, we discovered that we are closer to using this diagnosis in a past tense term rather than one in the present. After almost seven weeks, Chase is on the other side of recuperation, meaning that he has hopefully experienced the worst that could occur. The prognosis given at the end of our exam included an expectation of full recovery by the Fall of this year, beautiful music to the ears of a weary mom who has been missing her song.
I cannot think of a sentence that has brought more joy than that confident conclusion. The nameless was identified, the indefinite turned to well defined , and the unfamiliar became a known. The overwhelming relief I felt almost caused me to collapse in a puddle of emotion in that exam room, yet I fought for control and chose to chest bump the small, French physician instead.
(Not really. But the thought of doing so prevented the flood of tears, the likes of which I am sure even Noah has never seen.)
Sitting on the porch with my husband last night, we revisited the events of the day, savoring the information we had been given, the long awaited answers to questions that had so troubled us. We spoke of being thankful for the many that had prayed for our son, knowing without a doubt that it was the reason our day had ended well.
“I imagine the multitude of prayers lifted as a beautiful symphony, presented in reverence to the Great Conductor ,” John said quietly. “While the prayers of one or several produces a pleasing melody - like a trio of flutes or an ensemble of violins - it is when you add all the other instruments together - the trumpets, the clarinets, the trombones – that a magnificent orchestra is constructed. Those many prayers, all those lifted by our family, friends and people we will never know, created exquisite music in the ears of God, a heavenly symphony of confident believers praying with perfect pitch and tune.”
Thank you for being our chorus, for lifting a flawless concert to the Almighty on the behalf of our son, Chase. Whether you claim the soothing tones of the flute, the steady sound of the trumpet or the boldness of the cymbals, your participation in the symphony written for our family will always be remembered and treasured, but most importantly, forever hummed.
To God be the glory.
(source - Mayo Clinic)
Damage, degeneration or loss of nerve cells in the part of your brain that controls muscle coordination (cerebellum), results in loss of coordination or ataxia. Your cerebellum comprises two pingpong-ball-sized portions of folded tissue situated at the base of your brain near your brainstem. The right side of your cerebellum controls coordination on the right side of your body; the left side of your cerebellum controls coordination on the left side of your body.
Diseases that damage the spinal cord and peripheral nerves that connect your cerebellum to your muscles also may cause ataxia. Ataxia causes include:
- Head trauma. Damage to your brain or spinal cord from a blow to your head, such as might occur in a car accident, can cause sudden-onset ataxia, also known as acute cerebellar ataxia.
A very good descriptive example video can be seen on youtube at www.youtube.com/watch?v=amJQoPGq71o&feature=related
(source - Canadian Movement group)