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.
In a strange turn of events, Tyson was delivered via c-section last Wednesday, November 23rd, at 9:14AM. Our little guy weighed in at five pounds and four ounces, and measured 18.5 inches in length. I’ll most certainly delve into more of the labor and delivery stories – because there certainly are plenty – but long story short, Tyson was diagnosed with IUGR, or intrauterine growth restriction, and the nourishment needed to keep him growing and thriving was unattainable in the womb.