The question of why I’m here bears some ponderation. I should be dead.
When I was a baby, I had what is called a dermoid cyst on my right temple. My mother noticed this irregular growth and took me to the doctor. One by one, doctors kept reassuring her that it was nothing and would go away. Until one particular female surgeon saw it and told my mother they needed to get me into surgery as soon as possible.
The next day, at nine months of age, my mother said goodbye to me as I was wheeled away into surgery. The surgeons removed this cyst that was making its way through my skull and was very close to rooting in my brain. Had this cyst not been discovered and removed, I would have suffered dire consequences. My father once worked with a man whose daughter had my same condition, but here cyst was not removed. This caused her to be mentally retarded, confined to a wheelchair, in a diaper, and in the grave at age 8.
Praise God that my story lives on. I never suffered any physical consequences and have been blessed with a magnificent brain – most of the time I have no idea how it works. My blessings are more than just physical though. I was born into a society that allowed me freedom. Freedom to live as I please, freedom to do as I please, and freedom to praise the God I love.
To this day, the only remnant I have of my cyst are a few baby pictures, a scar just under my hairline, and a slightly indented temple. Most people don’t know this story. It’s a giant part of me, and it’s hidden from the world. My strength – my blessings – are mine to tell. Here they are world.