The back-story: A few weeks ago we visited Ben's family in Mesa. We stayed for a few days and then headed home. Somewhere in the mix My Little Reader's glasses went MIA. We looked everywhere and then planned to replace them, but other life events got in the way. During that time I noticed that her left eye was wandering and that she was having trouble focusing with that eye. We had her patch her "good" eye to help force the other one to focus.
Last Thursday we finally had a spare minute and took her to get a new prescription. Ah, but if only it had been that simple. The ophthalmologist told us that she basically has no vision in her left eye. She can see shapes and colors but can barely make out a huge letter (seriously like 12 inches tall) from across the room. He told us that her pressure reading was too high and that it appeared her optic nerve had atrophied. There was more medical mumbo-jumbo, but the outcome was that we need to take her to a specialist.
Yesterday we went to the specialist. I wish that I had more answers. But I don't. He confirmed what the first doctor had said, but still didn't have a reason for the problem. So he ordered an MRI for next week. He also threw in the extra reminder that for the rest of her life My Little Reader will have to be extra careful with her right eye, because she no longer has a back-up. Thanks, no pressure.
So that is where you find me today. At the place in between. In between knowing that something is not right with her eye and knowing what that something is. The place where I pray it is simply something she was born with and the place where I fear beyond words that it is something far more sinister. In this space in between I watch her differently. I notice her clinginess and wonder at the reason for it. I see her crankiness and question if it is simply a 7-year-old thing or if there is something bigger at work. Ben and my mom and My Little Reader's kindergarten teacher assure me that since her eye has always been different and since nothing else is different about her it is probably nothing. But what if it is not. I would rather prepare for the worst and be relieved to find I worried for nothing than to have the wind knocked out of me by something I haven't begun to prepare for.
Every week we go to the Harkins Summer Movies for kids. Last week the movie was Planet 51. At one point in the movie a very keen little boy tells a man, "You are not afraid "of such and such". You are afraid of the unknown." I couldn't have said it better. I am fearful beyond words that whatever this thing is I won't be able to fix it. It is amazing how quickly your worst case scenario evolves. Last Thursday I was grasping for any chance that she might one day regain some of her sight in the left eye. Now, I am beyond that. Not that I don't still hope that medical marvels will occur in her lifetime. But now I sit with a constant prayer on my lips that there is nothing in her brain that is causing this change in her eye. A constant ache in my heart at what it might be and a sliver of hope that we have already seen the worst.
Last week my heart broke at the thought that she couldn't see out of that eye, and now I pray that is all that it is. Amazing that something that intially was so scary would now be a great blessing. So, if you would, say a little prayer for her...and for me.
Last Thursday we finally had a spare minute and took her to get a new prescription. Ah, but if only it had been that simple. The ophthalmologist told us that she basically has no vision in her left eye. She can see shapes and colors but can barely make out a huge letter (seriously like 12 inches tall) from across the room. He told us that her pressure reading was too high and that it appeared her optic nerve had atrophied. There was more medical mumbo-jumbo, but the outcome was that we need to take her to a specialist.
Yesterday we went to the specialist. I wish that I had more answers. But I don't. He confirmed what the first doctor had said, but still didn't have a reason for the problem. So he ordered an MRI for next week. He also threw in the extra reminder that for the rest of her life My Little Reader will have to be extra careful with her right eye, because she no longer has a back-up. Thanks, no pressure.
So that is where you find me today. At the place in between. In between knowing that something is not right with her eye and knowing what that something is. The place where I pray it is simply something she was born with and the place where I fear beyond words that it is something far more sinister. In this space in between I watch her differently. I notice her clinginess and wonder at the reason for it. I see her crankiness and question if it is simply a 7-year-old thing or if there is something bigger at work. Ben and my mom and My Little Reader's kindergarten teacher assure me that since her eye has always been different and since nothing else is different about her it is probably nothing. But what if it is not. I would rather prepare for the worst and be relieved to find I worried for nothing than to have the wind knocked out of me by something I haven't begun to prepare for.
Every week we go to the Harkins Summer Movies for kids. Last week the movie was Planet 51. At one point in the movie a very keen little boy tells a man, "You are not afraid "of such and such". You are afraid of the unknown." I couldn't have said it better. I am fearful beyond words that whatever this thing is I won't be able to fix it. It is amazing how quickly your worst case scenario evolves. Last Thursday I was grasping for any chance that she might one day regain some of her sight in the left eye. Now, I am beyond that. Not that I don't still hope that medical marvels will occur in her lifetime. But now I sit with a constant prayer on my lips that there is nothing in her brain that is causing this change in her eye. A constant ache in my heart at what it might be and a sliver of hope that we have already seen the worst.
Last week my heart broke at the thought that she couldn't see out of that eye, and now I pray that is all that it is. Amazing that something that intially was so scary would now be a great blessing. So, if you would, say a little prayer for her...and for me.
Of course. Consider yourself and Emma prayed for "real good", as my dad would say. I will put names on the temple prayer roll on Monday too! You've been in our thoughts all weekend. We called and texted Ben's cell, now I have the info. When is the MRI?
ReplyDeleteLove ya all! Hang in there....
My heart aches when I read this. I pray for peace for you and strength for little reader. You are in my thought. I love You.
ReplyDeleteThey are supposed to call some time tomorrow with the information about the MRI. I will be sure to let you know. Love you both!
ReplyDelete