The Management

"I don't know where it came from," she says, "but I put it on my face like make-up." Glitter, it's good for almost anything.

In other news, dilating drops smell like violets AND so do my hands. You'd think I'd be a pro after a modest 47 drops of various sorts in the last five days, haha. I also placed and removed Lulie's new contact lens four times today. Yay! It's clumsy but hey, we're doin' it! :) Since I'm on a roll as amateur med student I also super-glued my left index finger after a bad encounter with the bread knife. Worked GREAT.

{sigh}

Another good day.

Sunglasses

Dilated pupils do have benefits.






Momma and Dad buy you SUNGLASSES!






Think she likes them? They'll be dilated for six weeks.





Now, tomorrow we get a contact lens and this precious eye will be fully operational. Hard to believe it's totally blind right now!





Patching will be a breeze after this!

***

Jack grabs Lulie's hands, "Are you singing for joy for me, Lulie?" She giggles. He off. She sings a jumble of ABC's and runs after him.

The world is still simple.

The OR

"Jesus love me, this I know," I sing the words.

A nurse with white skin and pink cheeks administers sleeping gas. It's a mask, but Lucy doesn't mind. Her eyes flutter. She waves an arm. I hold her small pudgy hand and lean close. "Yes, Jesus loves me - - yes," the chorus encircles us. She's asleep and still I sing out the last words.

So many blue gowns and each one waits. And still I sing. All the perfection of a surgeon's team, the intersection of man and science, microscopes and scalpels that make 1mm incisions, precision, and still, they wait for my song's end. An unexpected reverence.

"Can I kiss her cheek?"

"Yes, you may."

Another nurse whisks me away. I feel as though we walk on water.

Post-Op

Before surgery.





Waiting to leave.





Relatively un-phased by the whole thing.





Sweetie.




Waking up. Slow. Post-op.




Ready for food again.


{Sigh} Thank-you, LORD!

First thing, our surgeon said the cataract was much bigger than expected once he opened the eye. It's amazing she could see so well. The Lord is good. Thank-you for your love and prayers. Now contacts and patching and grace. Day by day. Thanks.

Surgery

So, it's a go.

Tomorrow. Wednesday.

Check-in 7:15 am. Surgery 9:00.





Would ya'll mind praying?





Lord, if you are willing, I know you can heal me.





A grand request.

A grand God.





Here we go.

Change of Plans

The surgeon's office called. His favorite assistant for cataract removal is GONE this Wednesday. Sooo, surgery is canceled. We're waiting a week. Now, the big day is January 20. Don't you just love a surgeon who makes everything perfect for a delicate procedure? AND, turns out he performs this particular surgery almost every week. A practiced hand, what a gift.

So, what sort of questions should I make sure to ask before the big day? I feel like I should know, but haven't got a clue. I guess there are the obvious, like when she can last eat or drink, but other than that I sort of floundering. Any friendly advice?