Back From Philly Sans Eye

We went to Philadelphia. We includes myself, my husband, our two children, and my parents. My parents were there to watch my children. We decided taking the kids with us was a better option than leaving them behind for days on end, especially since we didn't know an exact date we'd be coming home. We knew we'd be gone at least a week, which is a long time for little kids to be without their parents.

To make a long story short, they removed my right eye. Cancer had spread across my entire iris, seeded from the original tumor.

My dad and my husband took it very hard. You'd think from reading this blog that my dad's a jerk, and sometimes he is and most often to his wife, but he does care about us. So he worried a lot and was incredibly supportive. They were on their best behavior during the trip.

I have not freaked out once since we left for Philadelphia and came home. I didn't freak out during 8 hours of testing, or during a biopsy, or when they told me I was going to lose my eye, or after surgery when I sat in a hotel for days unable to do anything, or now that the bandages are off and I can see my swollen, bruised eye and know that I'll never see out of it again. I really do keep expecting my other eye's vision to come back any minute, but logically I know that's not happening. It's like when my grandpa died(step-grandpa, really, but he was the grandpa I knew from birth til my early 20s when he passed away). You go to think of him, and your brain just says, "He's not here right now." And you'll always get that "not right now" message but there's no real emotion attached to it.

Anyway, my theory is that I'm on enough prayer rolls that I've had spiritual help not freaking out, or maybe I'm just not dealing with emotions at all.

I know I miss my eye. I want my two eyes again. Depth perception is off, and it's frustrating to know that it's permanent. But I won't get it back, so there's no point in mourning.

I have been reminded to be grateful instead. I had the best care from family and friends and doctors that I could have possibly had. Everyone else is healthy and relatively happy. I know what it’s like to not be able to see, to not be able to get up (like when I had my c-sections), to choose between doing something you really don’t want to do or die. I can use this knowledge to be grateful for what I have and to push myself to do better and be better at doing things, helping people, etc.

So, there you have it.