"Eye See You"
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Jack found out today that he only has one mommy and one daddy. You see, he's had a lazy eye since birth. I figure that he's been seeing double for a long time not being able to focus both eyes together. We tried some corrective measures to strengthen his left eye (which turned outward), but to no avail. In fact, in just the past month or so, seems that when he did focus with his left eye, then his right eye would turn outward.
OK, we accepted the fact that he would need eye surgery. We had a number of visits with the eye doc, and it was mentioned that he would likely need surgery by the time he was three years old. Yesterday, Jack turned three years old. Woohoo! Ugh! The most dreaded day finally arrived. Today. The clincher: during the pre-surgery visit last week, that's when it was revealed to us that the doc would do surgery on BOTH eyes! Yipes!
So, yesterday was a day to celebrate, but today is a day to remember. I can't tell you how scared we were for Jack. We prepped him over the last few weeks, helping him to understand that he would go to the doctors office to get his eyes fixed. He kept saying he didn't want to. All I could really tell him for sure is that mommy and daddy would never let anything bad happen to him, and that when we're not with him, other grown-ups will take care of him for us. I let him know that the doctors would fix his eyes while he was sleeping and having good dreams" (Jack understands about dreams from watching one of his favorite programs, and he's also told us that he's dreamt about us). I didn't candy coat it, either. I told him that he wouldn't feel good when he wakes up, that his eyes would hurt, but that we'd be there to make him feel better.
Both eyes, though. Can you imagine? Over 40 years ago I had eye surgery. Same surgery Jack would have. Thinking back, I can still taste the nauseous ether in the back of my throat after waking up, I remember the puking, the cardboard tubes on my arms to keep me pulling at the patches and bandages, and the long hospital stay for 3 or 4 days. Not just once, but three separate surgeries; twice on my left, once on my right. If that's what I had to go through each time on just one eye, then how in the heck is the doctor proposing this is no big deal to put a three year old through this on both eyes at the same time?
Well, the answer to that is 40 years of incredible advances in medicine and technology, that's how.
We got to the clinic at 7am, Jack still dressed in his PJs. The doc prepped us. The anesthetist prepped us. The nurse prepped us. Our heads were floating with information designed to educate us, instill our confidence in the medical team, and to also put us at ease. Yet it was so hard to place Jack into their arms once we reached the point of no return and watch as he disappeared behind the doors of the operating room.
One at a time, the doctor would put a speculum into Jack's eye and nudge it aside, then proceed to detach the muscle from the outside of his eyeball, move it back just a tad (quite calculated, actually), and reattach the muscle to a new spot with sutures. This would relax Jack's eyes so that his brain could more easily work the muscles together.
The nurse came out within 10 minutes after taking Jack into the operating room to tell us that he was quite relaxed going with them (the nurse did give him some "I don't care juice" that he sipped from a spoon prior to going in). They put a mask over his nose and mouth to breath a gas that quickly and quietly put him completely to sleep in about 4 or 5 breaths. Then the nurse put a catheter IV (very, very thin) into the back of his hand, saying that it went very easily. About 45 minutes later (honestly, it didn't even seem like 45 minutes!) the doctor came out to tell us that all went really, really well, gave us instructions for his care over the next couple days, and for the next couple weeks following that. The doc also prepped us for going in to see Jack in recovery.
The next 30-45 minutes were the longest. Every time the door opened, I was hoping to hear that we could go back to see Jack. Finally the nurse called us back into Jack's recovery room. He was still sound asleep from the anesthetic. Once again, the nurse gave us the run down for what to espect and how to care for Jack after we got home, and said that after he woke up they'd check his vitals, let the drowsiness wear off, and as soon as Jack said he wanted to go home, they'd let us loose.
I don't think we were in that recovery room five minutes and suddenly Jack sprang to life! He wanted to just jump right up, and he knew that he somehow had lost track of time and where he was. He wanted to be held, and it was very difficult to restrain him from rubbing his eyes. He is incredibly strong and strong-willed, and the more he cried, the harder it was for me to fight back the tears that wanted to massively erupt from my heart. We kept telling that the doctor fixed his eyes and we knew he didn't feel good right now, but he'll feel better soon, and that rubbing his eyes would hurt (it's also to prevent infection and disturbing the sutures). As if he had listened to everything the nurse was telling us while he was in his drugged state of sleep (and I believe he could hear), he knew the quickest way out of there was to take his queue from the nurse's script, and the very next words out of his mouth was "I wanna go bye-bye!" It took a few minutes to get him settled down, get some basic vitals, and get the IV out of his hand, and by 10am we were on the way home.
I cannot tell you how freakin' amazed I am at how this whole ordeal turned out. Jack naturally wants to rub his eyes, but has figured out that it does cause more discomfort, so he's doing pretty good to not touch. He's also taken to the ice packs and lays down, or walks around, with the packs on his eyes to soothe the achiness. His appetite has returned to normal by midday, and afterward he took a real good nap in the afternoon. Once gr'ma and gr'pa Kenyon showed up about 5pm, Jack was so sprite, like we was just back to his ol' self. Gr'ma and gr'pa left about 8pm, and Jack wandered outside, then into the garage and got onto his bike and took it for a spin. After a few minutes he rode into the garage, then came back out with his t-ball set and was hitting the ball. In fact, after dinner he was also playing catch and playing kickball.
I still want to cry... because I'm just so ecstatic with how fantastic the medical procedure went and how resilient Jack has been.
Jack found out today that he only has one mommy and one daddy. You see, he's had a lazy eye since birth. I figure that he's been seeing double for a long time not being able to focus both eyes together. We tried some corrective measures to strengthen his left eye (which turned outward), but to no avail. In fact, in just the past month or so, seems that when he did focus with his left eye, then his right eye would turn outward.
OK, we accepted the fact that he would need eye surgery. We had a number of visits with the eye doc, and it was mentioned that he would likely need surgery by the time he was three years old. Yesterday, Jack turned three years old. Woohoo! Ugh! The most dreaded day finally arrived. Today. The clincher: during the pre-surgery visit last week, that's when it was revealed to us that the doc would do surgery on BOTH eyes! Yipes!
So, yesterday was a day to celebrate, but today is a day to remember. I can't tell you how scared we were for Jack. We prepped him over the last few weeks, helping him to understand that he would go to the doctors office to get his eyes fixed. He kept saying he didn't want to. All I could really tell him for sure is that mommy and daddy would never let anything bad happen to him, and that when we're not with him, other grown-ups will take care of him for us. I let him know that the doctors would fix his eyes while he was sleeping and having good dreams" (Jack understands about dreams from watching one of his favorite programs, and he's also told us that he's dreamt about us). I didn't candy coat it, either. I told him that he wouldn't feel good when he wakes up, that his eyes would hurt, but that we'd be there to make him feel better.
Both eyes, though. Can you imagine? Over 40 years ago I had eye surgery. Same surgery Jack would have. Thinking back, I can still taste the nauseous ether in the back of my throat after waking up, I remember the puking, the cardboard tubes on my arms to keep me pulling at the patches and bandages, and the long hospital stay for 3 or 4 days. Not just once, but three separate surgeries; twice on my left, once on my right. If that's what I had to go through each time on just one eye, then how in the heck is the doctor proposing this is no big deal to put a three year old through this on both eyes at the same time?
Well, the answer to that is 40 years of incredible advances in medicine and technology, that's how.
We got to the clinic at 7am, Jack still dressed in his PJs. The doc prepped us. The anesthetist prepped us. The nurse prepped us. Our heads were floating with information designed to educate us, instill our confidence in the medical team, and to also put us at ease. Yet it was so hard to place Jack into their arms once we reached the point of no return and watch as he disappeared behind the doors of the operating room.
One at a time, the doctor would put a speculum into Jack's eye and nudge it aside, then proceed to detach the muscle from the outside of his eyeball, move it back just a tad (quite calculated, actually), and reattach the muscle to a new spot with sutures. This would relax Jack's eyes so that his brain could more easily work the muscles together.
The nurse came out within 10 minutes after taking Jack into the operating room to tell us that he was quite relaxed going with them (the nurse did give him some "I don't care juice" that he sipped from a spoon prior to going in). They put a mask over his nose and mouth to breath a gas that quickly and quietly put him completely to sleep in about 4 or 5 breaths. Then the nurse put a catheter IV (very, very thin) into the back of his hand, saying that it went very easily. About 45 minutes later (honestly, it didn't even seem like 45 minutes!) the doctor came out to tell us that all went really, really well, gave us instructions for his care over the next couple days, and for the next couple weeks following that. The doc also prepped us for going in to see Jack in recovery.
The next 30-45 minutes were the longest. Every time the door opened, I was hoping to hear that we could go back to see Jack. Finally the nurse called us back into Jack's recovery room. He was still sound asleep from the anesthetic. Once again, the nurse gave us the run down for what to espect and how to care for Jack after we got home, and said that after he woke up they'd check his vitals, let the drowsiness wear off, and as soon as Jack said he wanted to go home, they'd let us loose.
I don't think we were in that recovery room five minutes and suddenly Jack sprang to life! He wanted to just jump right up, and he knew that he somehow had lost track of time and where he was. He wanted to be held, and it was very difficult to restrain him from rubbing his eyes. He is incredibly strong and strong-willed, and the more he cried, the harder it was for me to fight back the tears that wanted to massively erupt from my heart. We kept telling that the doctor fixed his eyes and we knew he didn't feel good right now, but he'll feel better soon, and that rubbing his eyes would hurt (it's also to prevent infection and disturbing the sutures). As if he had listened to everything the nurse was telling us while he was in his drugged state of sleep (and I believe he could hear), he knew the quickest way out of there was to take his queue from the nurse's script, and the very next words out of his mouth was "I wanna go bye-bye!" It took a few minutes to get him settled down, get some basic vitals, and get the IV out of his hand, and by 10am we were on the way home.
I cannot tell you how freakin' amazed I am at how this whole ordeal turned out. Jack naturally wants to rub his eyes, but has figured out that it does cause more discomfort, so he's doing pretty good to not touch. He's also taken to the ice packs and lays down, or walks around, with the packs on his eyes to soothe the achiness. His appetite has returned to normal by midday, and afterward he took a real good nap in the afternoon. Once gr'ma and gr'pa Kenyon showed up about 5pm, Jack was so sprite, like we was just back to his ol' self. Gr'ma and gr'pa left about 8pm, and Jack wandered outside, then into the garage and got onto his bike and took it for a spin. After a few minutes he rode into the garage, then came back out with his t-ball set and was hitting the ball. In fact, after dinner he was also playing catch and playing kickball.
I still want to cry... because I'm just so ecstatic with how fantastic the medical procedure went and how resilient Jack has been.
posted by =JR&LA! :-) at 8:25 PM
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