The Weight is Heavy...But So Is the Call

In 2013, my world changed.

I had my first stroke and underwent spinal fusion surgery, which left me paralyzed on my left side. Suddenly, I found myself in a nursing home and rehabilitation facility, learning to walk and talk all over again. It was humbling. It was frightening. And it was the beginning of a journey that would test every fiber of my faith and every ounce of my will.

Three months later, I was back in the operating room due to a malfunction in the hardware placed in my neck. What should have been a 2½-hour procedure turned into a 10-hour fight for my life. The surgeon accidentally nicked my jugular vein, and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. My family was told they lost me twice during that operation. A cardiovascular surgeon had to be called in just to repair the damage before the neurosurgeon could even continue.

Miraculously, I survived. Again.

When I returned to the nursing home after that second surgery, one of the nurses from my previous stay recognized me. She came to my bedside, her eyes filled with tears, and said something I’ll never forget:

"You don’t know what your fight meant to me. Watching you push through encouraged me to face obstacles in my own life. I’m sorry to see you back here, but I have no doubt you’ll overcome again."

But the second surgery left behind more than emotional scars. After that procedure, it wasn’t just my left side anymore—my right side was now paralyzed as well.

To this day, I still suffer from severe nerve damage that affects my entire right side. Writing and typing have become incredibly difficult. The nerve pain I live with is intense and unrelenting. And yet… I press forward.

Since then, I’ve had four more spinal surgeries. I’ve been diagnosed with pulmonary sarcoidosis and several other chronic conditions. And from 2013 to this very moment, I have not known a single day without pain.

Some days, the pain is less. Other days, even walking from one room to the next feels like I’m dragging a mountain behind me. But I journey on.

I journey on because I know I’ve been given a purpose greater than my pain.

I journey on because I’m still here — not just to survive, but to serve. I run a nonprofit. I lead a ministry. I host a podcast. I show up as a mother. I help raise my grandson.

And most of all…

I journey on, not just because others depend on and believe in me, but because I believe in me.

Yes, the weight is heavy… but so is the call.

And so, I journey on.

Jamesina Greene