Is This 91 or 92? Oh, Good Grief – I’ve Lost Count

It’s been, to the surprise of no one, a whirlwind since I arrived back in College Station a week and a half ago, which is why I’ve completely forgotten to share the fact that I had a surgery scheduled this morning. I still have journal entries coming for the Daily Wag, but I did want to fill you in on what my doctors did today and what we’re hoping as the outcome.

If you remember, I had a corneal transplant last September that restored a pretty significant amount of vision. We were all certain that seeing my son Tyson’s face was all but a done deal, but sadly, a couple of days before he was born, I started noticing a drastic shift in my eyesight, and within a matter of three weeks I was back to unusable vision. There were a couple theories as to why this was the case, but ultimately none of the noninvasive treatment options touched it, and my corneal transplant ended up rejecting in January.

The problem isn’t so much that the corneal transplant rejected, but really the cause of this rejection. A few years ago, I had a string of retinal detachments and, at the time, the only way to remedy the issue was to inject silicone oil into the eye in order to help it hold its shape. Scar tissue in my eye continued pulling the retina loose, so this was a solution to help the eye retain its structure amidst all the chaos within. That’s fine and dandy, except that the silicone oil bares the risk of forcing rejection with transplanted corneal tissue – and therein lies our problem. My retina specialist really didn’t want to pull the oil unless absolutely necessary, but I’d say repeating the transplant every three or four months isn’t exactly the most functional solution – and luckily my doctors agree.

Every surgery I have offers a glimmer of hope that eyesight can be restored – but that all comes with a price. If the silicone oil is imperative to keeping the retina attached, there might not be any other option. The biggest question  here is – will enough scar tissue form as a result of this surgery, thereby pulling the struggling retina loose? The answer seems pretty fuzzy to all parties involved, so we’re just going to have to play the waiting game to see how it all pans out.

I’m not in too much pain, which is a good thing. I’m not a huge fan of the eye being patched, mainly because it’s just terribly uncomfortable, but they’ll remove it first thing in the morning. We should know fairly quickly whether any sight was gained from the repeated transplant. Then it’s another month or two as the swelling dies down from the surgery. It took exactly 30 days from the last surgery for me to start reading the clock on my iPhone, so I’m coming into this with pretty steep expectations. But, all that being said, I’m trying to remain patient and hopeful that something grand lies around the corner.

Of course – I’ll keep you up-to-date with the progress. If you’re a subscriber of the Daily Wag, maybe consider subscribing to my main blog, too. I also keep my Facebook and Twitter accounts filled with status updates from the doctor and such, so you should definitely head there and give me a follow, as well. Thanks so much for the support, encouragement, positive thoughts and well wishes. You all are just too kind. More soon.

Patience is a Virtue – that I’m Still Acquiring

You think it looks painful - try having this thing jammed into your eye.

No stone will be left unturned, no road untravelled as we continue journeying through all the possibilities to keep my eyesight as functional as possible. The eyedrops that I mentioned last month proved unsuccessful on their own – and now we turn to steroid injections directly into the eye as a solution to getting the vision stabilized again. There’s a bit of inflammation in the tissue that was transplanted in September, so I’ll stay on the drops through this first dosage of steroid to see if the swelling decreases.

I must confess that the past 24 hours hasn’t been without complaining. Once the steroid is injected into the eye, very little usable vision is present. Basically, the steroid covers the entirety of my visual field, so not much of anything gets to the back of my eye, including light. It’s intimidating and a little scary – but I’m holding onto hope that there’s something brilliant on the other side of this dark and fuzzy mess.

Patience and hope are all I can cling to through this waiting period. Have I ever mentioned how truly impatient I am? I huff and puff when I wait on my cherry Pop-Tart to bound out of the toaster – you can only imagine what the wait is like for better eyesight. There are times I want to give up, times where I grapple fears and doubts, and others where I’m so consumed with impatience that I get angry, sometimes even livid. It’s hard to believe that I was weeks, maybe days, away from seeing our little boy’s face.

I’ve come to learn so much about myself through this journey. I have to struggle with surrendering my impatience for the sake of my family. I’ve had to embrace the notion that my doctors, though with skilled hands and tenured insights, are only instruments of an even greater Physician. It’s been a long road thus far – but I know that we’ve yet to see the last of the twists and turns. 

I can’t see a thing right now, with the exception of some light. My first followup is February 15th and we’ll evaluate the effectiveness of the steroid injection, whether another round is necessary or whether the treatment option will be ongoing. The dosage used can last about two months, so if this does indeed resolve some of the vision loss I’m experiencing, this could be the routine for us, as frustrating as it may be.

Thanks for sticking around as we turn the page. I can’t tell you how much the support means to us. I’ll update as I notice changes – for better or worse.

Could $800 Eyedrops Allow Me to See Tyson?

It’s expensive, that’s for sure, but I’d do just about anything to catch a gander at this little one. It’s been a winding road on this journey with my eyesight. I certainly deserve nothing, but by some miraculous force, I’m still seeing something. The problem is – I’m not seeing as much as I did not but three weeks ago. Truly frustrating, but more confusing than anything.

I mentioned taking a trip to Dallas for a checkup and reality check with my doctors. I’m, no doubt, seeing the most brilliant brains in the business, and certainly they can relate to a guy who desperately wants to gaze into his newborn son’s eyes for the first time. I mean, I was just reading text on an iPhone screen in October. What gives?

I didn’t walk away with a solution, but given the circumstances and timeline of my incredible vision a few weeks back, my doctors have concluded that my macula, the high-definition portion of my retina, is swollen, most likely due to the handful of retinal detachments through the years. When they transplanted the new cornea in September, the doctor put a high dose of steroids into the eye along with the tissue, mainly as an aide to recovery and inflammation related to the surgery. As an added bonus, these steroids acted as a relief for the inflammation in the macula. Funny how that worked.

I’m not great with analogies, but let me try to explain this a bit further. Assume my eye is a window, and before the surgery it was fogged up and dirty. When they transplanted the new cornea, they removed the fog. With a swollen macula, the dirt and grime still remain. Since the steroids minimized the swelling, I got a glimpse through a clear window – or at least as clear as my window will ever get at this point. Now – the window is dirty again. The fogginess isn’t present, but definitely tons of grime.

The first route my doctors want to take is eyedrops. A heavy dose of steroid drops were prescribed, and while I haven’t seen any progress yet, we’ll evaluate their effectiveness on January 11th. If the drops don’t solve the problem, the next step will be injecting steroids directly into the eye. There’s no guarantee that will work either – but it is a bit more direct than the eyedrops. It’s also more invasive, which we’re trying to keep in mind, too.

I want unhindered eyesight to see our boy’s face. I want to continue enjoying all the visual nuances that I’ve gone so long without – and got a glimpse of through the past few weeks. We’re holding out hope that the solution is still in sight, but it may be another month before we know for sure.

This has turned into more of a personal/family blog over the past couple of months – and I apologize to many of you. Thanks for being faithful and supportive as we continue on the chaotic ride that is our lives.