Sometimes one word can paralyze you. It can bring so much fear, anxiety and sadness that the mere mention of it can bring you to tears. For some of you that word begins with C or A. Perhaps your words starts with M or D. This week my word started with T. This word filled my mind and heart with fear for two days. I heard this word mentioned by at least three doctors in less than 48 hours.
Monday morning I took for Seth for his 4 year physical only 8 months late. (Don't judge.) Seth is a little difficult sometimes. Ok, a lot of times. I was probably avoiding the drama that comes with doctor's appointments. During the exam, she happened to notice his left eye was protruding slightly. I had never noticed this but she became very concerned about it. She spent quite a bit of time examining his eye and asking lots of questions. "How long has been like this?" "Does he complain about it?" "Has he had any vomiting or balance issues?" No, I answered. To all of these questions. I hadn't even noticed it. How had I not noticed it? That is when she dropped the "T" word for the first time. Tumor. What?! Did I hear her right? She said she didn't think a tumor was causing the bulging but she couldn't be sure. "Don't pass out," she told me. Yeah, ok. "I need you to go see a pediatric eye doctor. Can you go tomorrow or wednesday?" Sure, I tell her. Then comes 4 shots and the T word is momentarily put on the back burner. As I leave I call Jon and try to piece together what she just said. Never have I left a child's physical with any feeling other than satisfaction with how my children are growing. I couldn't explain to Jon what was going on because I was trying to process it myself. Later that day the nurse called with the appointment time. Tuesday at 2:30 in Memphis. "Would that work?" Of course I tell her. We want to figure out what is going on ASAP.
Jon and I went back and forth that night on whether I should take him be myself. It is nothing new for me to take our children to appointments or even surgical procedures by myself. Jon thought it was best if he kept Thad at home and was there to get Zoey after school. We didn't decide that I would go alone because of the lack of offers to help. Sometimes we are just stubborn people who struggle to ask for help. One of our many flaws but I digress.
The next day I loaded Seth in the car having spent much of the previous 24 hours preparing him for the eye doctor. I promised no more shots and a toy if he behaved. As appointment time drew closer anxiety began to set in. That "T" word had been lurking constantly in the depths of my mind since the previous day. I pray. I cry. I call a friend who had experience with eye problems in a child. I do anything I can to calm my nerves.
We arrived at Dr. Byrd's office, EARLY. I fill out the paper work and we wait a very short period of time and then the nurse calls us back. She asks me some simple questions and then she asks Seth to identify some pictures about 15 feet from him. With his right eye he does perfectly. Even the small pictures, perfect. Then she asks him to identify the same pictures with only his left eye. Nothing. He can see ZERO of the pictures. I'm in shock. How did I not know he couldn't see out of that eye? I'm still reeling from this news when Dr. Byrd comes in to exam him. She spends several minutes looking at his eyes with a fancy machine and then again with a simple eye glass. She then tells us she wants to dilate his eyes so she can get a better look. So fast forward 30 minutes and she drops a small bomb. His lens is completely dislocated. She doesn't know what is causing it. She doesn't see a TUMOR but she can't see everything. She tells me that she thinks something has to be pushing on that lens to cause it to be so out of place. "Can you go see a retina specialist right now?" Of course! I tell her. She leaves and I try to process what she said. Did she just say TUMOR? When she walks back in I ask her, "Should I be worried?" "Yes, but they will figure what's going on?" Enter complete freak out mode. Don't tell this girl to worry. It's one of my best qualities. I mean this girl is worry like no other. I hold back my tears just long enough to make it to the car and then I call Jon. I completely lost it with him. She said tumor. I am a wreck and Jon is equally as freaked out except he is 80 miles away. He is helpless. I am texting my family while he is soliciting prayers from friends.
We make it to the retina specialist and I can tell we easily drop the average age of the room by about 40 years. By this point Seth is getting a little tired of this game. So I do what any good mother would. I find the vending machine and buy him a bag of Cheetos and later a bag of cookies. Then we wait and wait and wait. At one point we move seats because the lady tells us we will be in a particular room. As we are moving I see a slightly familiar face. Dr. Byrd! What is she doing here? "Hey I live right down the road and I wanted to check and see what was going on?" Seriously?! What doctor does that? Her showing up was comforting and nerve wracking at the same time. Was there something she wasn't telling me? It was so nice to have someone cut to the chase and explain to the medical personal what was going on. She waited with us for about an hour before we got to see the specialist. He did many of the same things she had done and after a few minutes of them talking in their own language I told them they are way over my head. He then turns to me and says the magic words. I don't see a tumor. I have not reason to believe there is a tumor and I see no point in doing additional tests for solely a tumor. I can literally feel the anxiety draining away from my body. I didn't cry but believe me those tears were right there. He then asks if Seth had any eye trauma recently. Probably, he's 4! He tells me that Seth's lens in his eye has become completely dislocated somehow. So dislocated that is it causing his eye to bulge. He can see only light and maybe some shapes. He will have to have surgery to remove the lens in his eye and will have to wear a contact lens to regain sight in that eye.
I can not tell you the utter relief I felt when the words came out of his mouth. This surgery is not a permanent solution but it is so much better than the alternative. Seth was such a trooper. His behavior and my relief caused me to break my own cardinal rule. I took him straight to the store and bought him a toy. For those of you who know me well, you know I must have been relieved.
I tell you all of this for a couple of different reasons:
1. To keep those of you who are interested updated on what is going on in our lives and to petition for your prayers as we navigate through this process.
2. I want to know what word you are dealing with. Sometimes our struggles are big. Like cancer or Alzheimer's or maybe a miscarriage. Sometimes they are small but I want to pray specifically for you and that struggle.
Side story: My fears about the "T" word were cast aside yesterday. God answered our prayers and for that we are grateful. Allow me to explain. In kindergarten Zoey had a friend named N. N had a sister named A. I never met A but she must have been special. A was diagnosed with Leukemia in January and yesterday her body shut down because of a sudden fever. She died yesterday. Leaving behind parents and 2 siblings. I can not begin to imagine their heartache and grief. My fears feel so unfounded when their pain is so raw and so very real. A was a patient at St. Jude. A place so near and dear to my heart. It is so special not because I have stepped foot inside but because I am a parent. A parent who for a fleeting moment thought I might need a place like St. Jude. Who was comforted because I knew it existed. I'm so optimistic that one day no family was hear the C word and worry what might happen. Please pray for A's family and the families just like hers. If you want to donate to St. Jude click here. I can't cure cancer but I can do my best help families in their journeys.
Love to you all!
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