…But Now I See!

The days were dark and lonely.

My eyes hurt and I couldn’t handle the faintest light and the drugs made me feel needy and lacking.

I tried to keep the door cracked open so I could at least hear the chaos in the house.  Most of the time I just lay there in the dark with my ridiculous skiing-astronaut-outer-space-looking goggles protecting my eyes from my self.

Above: A picture taken AFTER I could handle light… but evidently not the flash of the camera…

Originally, I planned to get some of those silly nerd glasses to wear when I healed so I could tell everyone they were my new eyeglasses – that it was doctor’s orders.  But the astronaut glasses are quite enough, don’t you think?  (Ha, Ha, Vanderbilt Eye Institute. Very funny. You just know someone with a sense of humor came up with those things.)

My husband had this list – a schedule from 8:00 AM to 10:00 PM – what to put in my eyes and when, all at 30-minute intervals.  Plus the oral medications.  It was pretty detailed, with me being an “exceptional case” for whatever reasons.  My husband – He was a rock-solid trooper through it all.  This is a photo of the updated list – when the doses were finally spaced a bit farther apart.  Understandably, he threw away the first list as soon as they said he didn’t have to follow that schedule anymore. (It was much more formidable than this.)

And there were eye appointments.  All of it is a bit muddled from my medicated memory, but… when I had to go into any light at all (even in our home), then I wore my way-cool Ray Charles Sunglasses. The first day or two I even wore my skiing-astronaut-outer-space-looking goggles underneath my Ray Charles Sunglasses.  (But my husband still did not laugh.  Nor did he take photos of me then. I told you he was a trooper through it all.)

I tried to write our annual Christmas wRap in the dark while drugged and unable to see.  It ended up looking like a kindergartner had scribbled a bunch of cursive m’s across the page over and over again.  I did not think it as funny as Gary… that is until I could see it for myself.

But during one of those dark and painful days, a friend from church, my secret sister from earlier this year, stopped by with a homemade angel-food cake.  The brightest moment was the light that came forth from her face when she dared to enter the dark room.  Now THAT light I could handle.  It delighted me to have conversation, though my eyes were swollen and I really could only open them halfway for a few seconds at a time.

And another bright light – a friend delivered a meal for my family when I could not even provide for myself.  Her young daughter braved the dark room, and gave me an unexpected, heart-melting hug – an incredible blessing that ran just-so-deep through my veins during one of the darkest and loneliest times of my life.  Even though I could not really see her with my eyes, I could feel her with my heart.  Such a sweet moment forever burned into my heart and memory.

Though (understandably) there were not many visits, I loved the company despite my condition.  There were countless prayers and meals and get-well-wishes and even gifts bestowed.  One of my most awesomest, dearest friends cared for our boys while I was in surgery, and then kept them overnight so Gary could follow that crazy eyedropping-and-drugging schedule.  It was not until a few days later when I was starting to see again that I realized the sacrifices she made for our family.  Marvelous mom and friend that she is, she actually custom-fit a school plan for my children that day (while homeschooling her own).  And listening to her tell us about teaching my boys was a delightful laugh in and of itself.  (Oh, bless her heart!)

When I was just starting to come out of the painful days, more friends visited and listened to me tell them about our Jesse Tree.  And my story about counting gifts while on the operating table.  We sat in the dining room after dusk with lights dim and my Ray Charles glasses on.  And Gary went grocery shopping.

My surgery was on a Tuesday.  I braved church the following Sunday wearing my Ray Charles glasses.  We got home, and I just went to bed for the rest of the day.  I was maxed out.

And then just one more day.  Monday comes… and I can SEE!!!  I can see in light?!  (It was so wonderful after days of dark loneliness!)  No slicing pain when I opened these eyes!  Vision still blurry, sometimes still itchy and painful, but no more of that awful pain!  I could walk through the house without my Ray Charles glasses on!!  And from that point on, even though I still try to wear my skiing-astronaut-outer-space-looking goggles at night to prevent me from scratching my itchy eyes, they somehow end up halfway across the room when I wake up.  (Maybe Gary is playing jokes on me  here…? Or maybe I am just fed up with those things subconsciously…?)

Last night I got stuck on the floor of the pantry, but that’s another story for another day.  Maybe.  Needless to say, there have been a lot of great laughs.  And even grins that start to cramp my face!

So I end this part of the story with this… One night (or day??) when I could not see, I asked Gary to come in and write some things down for me.  While I was crying.  When it was hard to count my blessings.  Here is what was on that list:

I am thankful for:

• eyesight
• hearing
• a sensitive doctor
• my husband
• friends
• a little girl’s hug
• ice packs
• laughter in the pain
• my little Levi cuddling
• meals provided
• restful sleep
• conversation
• hands that reach out to help
• seeing blessings even while blind