The update came quietly, but it carried the full weight of everything that matters.

They had come to get Hunter for surgery.

The hallway doors opened, wheels turned softly against the floor, and the long stretch of waiting suddenly became real again. Moments like this arrive without ceremony. No warning. No easing into them. One second you are counting time, the next you are handing someone you love over to a process you cannot control.

Hunter and Katie shared that he had a good night. He slept well.

It may sound like a small detail, but in moments like these, rest is a gift. After days filled with tension, discomfort, and uncertainty, sleep becomes a sign of peace when peace feels hard to find. For those who have been praying, it felt like an answer—quietly given, not shouted, but deeply felt.

Surgery Number Three

This is Hunter’s third surgery.

Irrigation and debridement.

Clinical words. Precise. Detached on paper. Yet for the people who love him, those words carry immense meaning. Each surgery represents another step forward—and another test of endurance. Another round of hope intertwined with uncertainty. Another moment of trusting that skilled hands, careful timing, and grace will align exactly as needed.

There is no such thing as “routine” when it comes to repeated surgeries. Each one asks something new of the body. Each one demands courage all over again. And each one reminds everyone involved that healing is rarely linear.

Still, Hunter met this moment with something remarkable.

Calm.

A Strength That Doesn’t Announce Itself

As he was prepared and wheeled away, fear did not dominate the room.

In fact, Hunter was looking forward to the surgery.

To those who know him well, that reaction makes perfect sense.

Hunter has never been someone who shies away from difficulty. He does not retreat when something hard stands in front of him. He meets it head-on—not because it is easy, but because moving forward is the only direction he believes in.

This surgery, like the ones before it, is simply another obstacle to face. Another step on a path he has already committed to walking, no matter how steep it becomes.

There is a particular kind of bravery that does not need to be loud. It does not demand attention or reassurance. It doesn’t rely on speeches or dramatic gestures. It shows up quietly, in resolve. In consistency. In the willingness to show up again after pain.

Hunter embodies that kind of courage.

The kind that steadies everyone else in the room, even when they are the ones holding their breath.

What This Surgery Represents

Irrigation and debridement may sound technical, but the hope behind it is deeply human.

The hope that the procedure goes smoothly.
The hope that healing accelerates.
The hope that pain begins to loosen its grip.
The hope that comfort becomes more frequent than discomfort.

These are not abstract wishes. They are specific prayers. Skilled hands. Clear outcomes. Reduced inflammation. Progress that can be felt, not just measured.

Right now, every prayer being offered is wrapped around those hopes. Focused. Intentional. Filled with faith that this step matters.

Because it does.

The Hardest Part: Waiting

For Katie, and for everyone who loves Hunter, the most difficult part is always the space in between.

The waiting.

The time when doors close and you cannot follow. When love reaches its limit and must stop at the edge of a surgical wing. In those moments, helplessness can feel overwhelming.

So prayer becomes action.
Hope becomes something you actively hold onto.

You count minutes. You watch clocks. You replay the last words spoken, the last smile shared, the final look exchanged before he was taken back. Every detail becomes something to cling to while time stretches longer than it should.

This is where faith does its quiet work.

The Gift of Rest

There is comfort in knowing Hunter went into surgery rested.

A good night’s sleep is no small thing when a body has already been through so much. It is a reminder that his strength is not only mental. His body is still responding. Still fighting. Still showing resilience.

That matters more than most people realize.

Healing is not only about procedures and medicine. It is about the body’s ability to receive care. To recover. To cooperate with the work being done. Rest is part of that equation, and Hunter had it when he needed it most.

Trust at the Center of It All

What makes this moment especially powerful is the trust surrounding it.

Trust in the medical team.
Trust in their experience and judgment.
Trust in the process, even when it takes longer than expected.

Trust that progress is still progress—even when it comes in smaller steps than hoped for. Trust that pain is not the final word.

Hunter’s attitude reflects that trust.

He is not pretending this is easy. He is not minimizing what his body has endured. He is simply refusing to let this moment define him.

That distinction matters.

A Collective Pause

As surgery begins, there is a shared stillness among those waiting.

A collective pause.
A held breath.

A silent request that everything unfolds exactly as it should. That the procedure does what it needs to do. That pain eases. That recovery continues moving in the right direction. That the next update brings relief instead of new questions.

Alongside the fear, there is anticipation.

The anticipation of seeing him again. Of laying eyes on him post-surgery and knowing he has made it through one more step. That moment carries enormous weight. It is the moment when fear loosens its grip just enough for gratitude to rush in.

More Than a Medical Journey

Hunter’s story is not about avoiding hardship.

It is about meeting it with honesty and determination. About showing up again and again, even when the path demands more than feels fair. About choosing resilience when retreat would be understandable.

This surgery is another chapter in that story. Another test of strength. Another opportunity for healing to take deeper root.

And while no one would choose this road, the way Hunter walks it matters.

Holding Hope Steady

For now, all that can be done is wait, pray, and believe.

Believe that the irrigation and debridement will be successful.
Believe that pain will lessen.
Believe that this step brings him closer to recovery.
Believe that the courage he carries will continue to carry him forward.

The next update will come when waiting gives way to relief. When eyes meet again. When the long pause finally ends.

Until then, the prayers continue—steady, sincere, and unwavering—surrounding Hunter as he faces surgery number three with the same calm strength and quiet courage that define him.