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A MAJOR INSPIRATION by Jean Spielman HoushI owe my life to a youngman named Major.He is a guy I’d only heard about in the neurosurgeon’soffice. I was being examined and scheduled for brainsurgery. But I had the luxury of setting a surgerydate, calling family to Minneapolis to help out and bracingmyself beforehand. Major, however, did not. According tomy neurosurgeon, the 17-year-old hockey player wasnearly brain dead the January night he was brought toChildren’s Hospital. Imagine playing goalie for your hockeyteam and near death one day later. I couldn’t. …Eager to read all I could about my condition or anyoneelse who’d experienced it, I combed back issues of theMinneapolis Star Tribune sports section at the library untilI found it. There it was in bold type across five columns ofthe January 9, 2001, sport page.‘Blake Goalie Faces Surgery for Brain Tumor.’Edward “Major” Bowen was his name and his storywould change my life. …I wish I could say my surgery was easy. Although I didnot feel a thing, my family and friends suffered greatly. It isonly through God’s grace and mercy that I am here. …One cold March day [at Sister Kenny Institute], I sawthe name Major Bowen handwritten on a label of aheadrest on a wheelchair. Could it be the same MajorBowen? I wondered aloud to [my husband] Allen. If he’shere, I have to meet him. After all, he is the reason I wentahead with my surgery.I asked Matt, my OT therapist, if that was MajorBowen, the hockey player. Yes, it was, but due toconfidentiality concerns, I couldn’t just walk up and starttalking. Matt had to arrange it for us after getting Major’sparents’ approval.The next day, I was introduced to Major, and hisparents, Bill and Pat. …The common denominator between Major and me wasthe same colloid cysts in our brains. A rare and benigntumor, colloid cysts reside in the third left ventricle andrestrict the flow of cerebral spinal fluid. In my case, itcaused considerable swelling and chronic headaches.Major, however, experienced no warning signs orheadaches. …After six weeks in Children’s Hospital, Major wasreleased to the Sister Kenny Institute for therapy andrehabilitation. That’s where our paths finally crossed.I was a bit tentative about meeting him. I wasconcerned his parents might measure me against their son’sprogress. Boy was I wrong. I have never been so warmlyreceived. Behind Major’s wheelchair in the computer lab atSister Kenny Institute, Major’s dad, Bill, shook my handand thanked me for initiating our meeting.“It’s nice to know someone who had the same surgeryas Major and who’s come out so well,” he told me.I tried to tell him that his son was my inspiration. Tearsrolled down my face and I couldn’t get the words out. “Icry a lot,” I told him. He smiled, knowing exactly what Imeant.Around the corner came Major’s mom, Pat. AwkwardlyI began my story again. Lost in my tears were all the wordsI’d hoped to say. Words like ‘thank you for your son.Thank you for being such loving parents. Thank you forgiving me this opportunity to meet my life’s inspiration.’ …During a follow-up visit last year, Dr. Nagib’s nursepractitioner, Therese O’Fallon, told me, “One day, maybenot soon, but one day, you’ll look back on this surgeryexperience as a gift. Some good will have come from it.”Brain surgery—a gift? Yeah, right. I brushed it off.But today, more than two years later, I’m beginning tosee what she means. God has given me a gift of trueinspiration in Major.Through him and my surgery, I’ve learned patience,determination, and what family really means. Today, thebalance of good days and bad days clearly tips toward thepositive. I’ve recovered most, if not all, of my short- andlong-term memory. Although, I still lose my car in theTarget parking lot and often have trouble rememberinghow many strokes I had on the golf course.Major and I read Lance Armstrong’s book It’s Not aboutthe Bike last summer. We read it aloud to one another toimprove our enunciation. Armstrong’s story of victory overcancer and winning the Tour de France is an inspiring andpowerful one. But one no less inspiring than Major’s storyof faith, courage, and strength.Jean Spielman Housh is a writer and wife of Augsburg regentemeritus Allen Housh.20Spring/Summer 2004