The Morning of Brain Surgery: Facing Fear Before Anesthesia | Season 2, Episode 8 | Finale

“Fear being present does not mean faith is absent.”

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There are moments in life where everything you thought mattered gets quiet.

The stress.
The opinions.
The small worries.
The things you used to overthink.

They all fade into the background when you are facing something that could change everything.

For me, that moment came the morning of brain surgery.

In Season 2, Episode 8 of I Have A What?! Surviving a Brain Tumor, I walk through the final hours before my surgery. The day before. The night before. The morning of. The drive to UVA. The check-in process. The gown. The nurses. The anesthesia team. My family showing up. The conversation with my surgeon. And the moment I finally broke down because I was face to face with every fear I had been trying to outrun.

This is the Season 2 finale.

And it ends right where my certainty ended.

Right before anesthesia.

Right before everything went black.

The Day Before Brain Surgery

March 14th, 2024 was my wife’s birthday.

But it was also the day before my brain surgery.

That is hard to explain because a day that should have been about celebrating her was also covered by the weight of what was coming the next morning.

I was there, but I was not fully there.

My body was moving. I was handling errands. I was shopping for things I would need for recovery. I was trying to prepare for the hospital stay. I was doing what needed to be done.

But mentally, I knew what was coming.

Tomorrow was the day.

And none of us really knew what tomorrow would bring.

That day felt blurry. It felt like I was in a transition place, not fully in regular life anymore, but not yet on the other side of surgery. I was somewhere in between the life I knew and the life I was hoping to wake up to.

Preparing For A Version of Myself I Had Not Met Yet

Before surgery, I had a couple days off to get things ready.

I needed to shop. I needed to prepare. I needed to think about recovery, the hospital stay, and what I might need when I came home.

But the strange part was this:

I was preparing for recovery without knowing what recovery would look like.

I was buying things for a version of myself I had not met yet.

I did not know if I would wake up the same. I did not know if I would wake up different. I did not know how my mind would feel. I did not know what my body would be able to do. I did not know what the other side of surgery would require from me.

So I tried to control the small things because I could not control the big thing.

That is something I think many people understand when they are facing something serious. You organize. You shop. You pack. You make lists. You handle details.

Not because those things remove the fear.

But because they give your hands something to do while your mind is carrying the unknown.

The Night Before Surgery

The house was quiet, but my mind was not.

I kept thinking about the next morning. I kept thinking about my wife, my children, my mom, my family, and everything that could happen. I kept thinking about what I had been told. I kept thinking about the risks. I kept thinking about whether I would wake up.

How do you sleep when you do not know what tomorrow is going to bring?

That night, I was not just trying to rest.

I was trying to surrender.

I had spent so much of the journey trying to wear the mask. Trying to be strong. Trying to encourage people. Trying to act like I was holding everything together. But the closer I got to surgery, the harder it became to hide what I was feeling.

Fear was getting louder.

Faith was still there.

But fear was getting louder.

The Morning Everything Became Real

Then morning came.

There are some mornings where you wake up and life feels normal.

This was not one of those mornings.

This was the morning of brain surgery.

The drive to UVA felt different because every mile was taking me closer to the unknown. I was not driving toward answers. I was driving toward surrender.

When we arrived at the hospital, everything became official.

It was no longer a date on the calendar.
It was no longer something I was preparing for at home.
It was no longer something in the distance.

I was there.

The calendar date had become a hospital wristband.

I checked in. I went through the process. I took off my regular clothes and put on the hospital gown.

That may sound simple, but emotionally, it was different.

Taking off my clothes felt like taking off the last piece of normal. Putting on the gown made everything real in a way I could not ignore.

At that point, I was no longer just Johnathan trying to be strong.

I was a patient getting ready for brain surgery.

My Family Showed Up

One of the things I will never forget is how my family showed up.

My mom, my aunts, my uncles, and my family came down together. They got a van and surprised me at the hospital.

Seeing them there meant more than I can explain.

It reminded me that I was not walking into that hospital alone. It reminded me that I was loved. It reminded me that people were standing with me, praying for me, and carrying me in the only ways they could.

But their presence also made the moment feel even more real.

Sometimes love gives you strength.

Sometimes love makes the weight hit harder.

That day, it did both.

Meeting the Surgical Team

Before surgery, I met the nurses, the anesthesia team, and the people who were preparing me for what was about to happen.

They were calm. They were professional. They were doing their jobs.

But for me, this was my life.

Every explanation made it more real. Every medical detail reminded me that this was happening. The conversations about anesthesia, preparation, and the process of surgery were routine to them, but nothing about it felt routine to me.

Then I met with my surgeon.

And we went over the risks again.

I had heard the risks before. I knew what could happen. I knew this was serious.

But hearing those risks while I was already at UVA, already in the gown, already being prepared for surgery, hit completely different.

This was no longer information in an office weeks before surgery.

This was the moment before they took me back.

When the Mask Finally Broke

That was the moment the mask broke.

Through this whole journey, I had been trying to be strong.

Trying to keep it together.
Trying to encourage people.
Trying to protect people.
Trying not to look scared.
Trying not to sound scared.
Trying not to let the weight show.

But when my surgeon went over those risks again, everything I had been holding back came to the surface.

I broke down.

My wife saw it.
My mom saw it.
And for the first time, I could not hide what I was carrying anymore.

That breakdown was not weakness.

It was the weight finally becoming too heavy to hide.

For months, I had been wearing the mask. In that moment, fear finally found the crack.

And I realized something about fear that I had not fully understood before.

What Real Fear Felt Like

Before that moment, I thought I knew what fear was.

I thought fear was anxiety.
I thought fear was nervousness.
I thought fear was worrying about things that might happen.
I thought fear was the stress we carry from everyday life.

But sitting there right before brain surgery, I learned the difference between being nervous and being afraid.

Some things I used to call fear were really just discomfort.

Real fear was sitting there not knowing if I would open my eyes again.

Real fear was wondering if I would wake up the same.
Real fear was wondering if I would wake up different.
Real fear was wondering if I would wake up at all.
Real fear was looking at my wife, my mom, and my family and knowing they could only walk with me so far.

Everything else got quiet.

The opinions.
The small stresses.
The things I used to overthink.
The things I once allowed to take up too much space.

When you are facing the possibility of not waking up, a lot of things lose their power.

Faith Was Still There

But even in that fear, faith was still there.

And I need people to understand that.

Fear being present does not mean faith is absent.

You can trust God and still tremble.

You can believe and still cry.
You can pray and still feel afraid.
You can have faith and still need something to calm you down before surgery.

Faith was not me pretending I was not scared.

Faith was me going forward while I was scared.

Earlier in this season, I talked about my mom’s faith and how it challenged me. At the time, her faith felt bigger than mine. But by the morning of surgery, I needed every bit of faith that had been poured into me.

My mom’s faith.
My wife’s strength.
My family’s prayers.
My own relationship with God.

All of it mattered.

Being Rolled Back

After I broke down, they gave me something to help calm me down.

And I needed it.

At that point, I was not trying to be in control anymore.

The mask was gone. The fear was real. All I could do was surrender.

Then they started rolling me back.

That is a moment I will never forget.

When they roll you back, there is no more preparing. There is no more waiting. There is no more talking about what is coming.

You are going.

My wife could only go so far.
My mom could only go so far.
My family could only go so far.

At some point, it was just me, God, and the unknown.

I did not know if I would wake up the same.

I did not know if I would wake up different.

I did not know if I would wake up at all.

I did not know if there would be a tomorrow.

I did not know if there would be a Season 3.

And then everything went black.

The Grandfather Lesson

As always, I dedicate this episode to my grandfather, *James Smith Jr.*

The lesson I connect to him in this episode is this:

Real courage is not the absence of fear. Real courage is facing what scares you while still trusting God to carry you through it.

My grandfather taught me strength, but not the fake kind of strength where you pretend nothing hurts. He taught me a strength that shows up. A strength that keeps going. A strength that finishes what it starts.

Those lessons walked with me into the hardest moment of my life.

And this season reminded me that courage is not about never being afraid.

Sometimes courage is being afraid and still taking the next step.

Final Thoughts

Season 2 ends where my certainty ended.

Right before anesthesia.
Right before surgery.
Right before everything went black.
Right before I had to trust God with what came next.

This episode is about fear, faith, family, vulnerability, and surrender.

It is about the difference between being nervous and being truly afraid.

It is about learning that faith and fear can exist in the same moment.

And it is about the moment when all you can do is let go and trust God to carry you into what comes next.

Season 3 begins when I wake up.

One love, be blessed.

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