Hi gang. I’ve already written to some of you, and if I have, this will largely be a recap of what you already know.
On Monday, Joni, Adam, and I traveled to Omaha for my visit to the doctor. I saw Doctor Halgren who is a cornea specialist associated with the University of Nebraska Medical Center. We left home at 10 o’clock, and arrived just in time for my 2 o’clock appointment, allowing for a lunch stop in York. I’m sorry to say that the news I got was not so great.
In my left eye, the eye I had a cornea transplant on back in 2003, the prospects do not look good at all. I was not surprised to hear him say that the transplanted cornea is breaking down. That thing has been through the wringer. Also, I already knew there was a significant cataract in that eye, so that was no surprise either. The bad news started with the retina. The doctor said there are signs that the retina has become detached. Since the retina is behind the cataract, he won’t know for sure until I get an ultrasound, but he thinks it could be bad. He said if the detachment is severe enough, he would probably not be inclined to do any work on that eye at all because it just wouldn’t be worth it. Also, the pressure in the left eye is extremely low. As you may know, our eyes are filled with fluid. There is an organ in there that is constantly producing new fluid, and also a drainage system to let the old fluid out. For the eye to remain healthy, there has to be a certain degree of balance between fluid in, and fluid out. Normal eye pressure is between 10 and 20, I don’t know what the unit of measurement is called. My pressure today was 5. Doc says that could mean that the eye is simply shutting down. At the time, I didn’t think to ask what happens when an eye shuts down, but I guess it can’t be anything good. Anyway, Halgren said that all of these complications since my transplant are not out of the ordinary for someone with eczema and allergies. I’m a little surprised that Doctor Hargrave back in Dallas never mentioned that.
In my right eye he said I need a transplant, of course I already knew that. He also said there is a significant cataract in that eye which I didn’t know, but didn’t surprise me that much. Pressure on that eye was 9, which is low, but not alarmingly so. He said that if I get a transplant in the right eye, I may very well experience the same complications I had with the left, and he said the odds of any success there are about 50/50.
So that’s where it stands. I’m scheduled to go back next Wednesday for the ultrasound, but about halfway home I realized that I have a dentist appointment that day. I think I’ll keep the dentist appointment. Maybe I’ll reschedule the ultrasound, and maybe I won’t. I honestly don’t know right now. Well, that’s not entirely true. I will most likely go ahead with it, but it probably won’t be right away. I still need to find out what the Lions are going to do anyway.
I suppose I should be depressed about all this, but I really don’t feel too bad. When it’s all said and done, I don’t think this really changes anything. It was in God’s hands before, and it is still in His hands now. Is a bad prognosis from a doctor going to influence the will of God? Of course not. Doctors are smart people, but they are just that, people, and I think doctors tend to be a bit near-sighted anyway, if you know what I mean. There is still hope. As long as I live and breathe, there will be hope.
1 Peter 4:12-13 Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. NIV
Romans 12:2 Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God. NKJV
When you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake.
--Victor Hugo
Showing posts with label 2003. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2003. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Memories - Family Vacations
Ah, family vacations. We all love them, don’t we? Whenever we can afford to take them, that is. I remember the last one I went on. That was in 2003 I think, or maybe 2004. Joni, Adam, and I went down to Houston for a Labor Day weekend. We visited Johnson Space Center and Moody Gardens and stayed in a hotel and had a pretty good time.
That was a lot different than the family vacations we took when I was a kid. I’m talking way back in the 70’s, when Mom and Dad were still married. Dad was a farmer, as I have mentioned before, and we couldn’t go anywhere as long as he had to water the crops. So we waited for rain. It had to be a pretty good rain, too, so that he didn’t have to irrigate for a few days. When the rain finally came, we would put the topper on the pickup, hook up the boat, and head for Lake McConaughy, which is out east near Ogallala, Nebraska..
Mom and Dad would ride up front, and us four kids all rode in the back of the pickup with lots of blankets and pillows to flop around on. The tent, sleeping bags and coolers would all be packed in the boat for the trip. Those were such simple times. We didn’t worry about seat belts and air bags and crash test ratings, we just hopped in the back of the pickup, and off we went. If anyone tried that today, they’d probably be thrown in jail and their kids sent to foster homes. I don’t remember at all how long the trip to the lake was. I know it had to be at least a couple of hours, but we didn't mind. Getting there really was half the fun in those days.
Most of my memories of our camping trips are only fragments. There wasn't any one trip in particular that stands out in my mind. Our tent was blue and yellow and was big enough for all six of us. I remember the pitch blackness of those nights in the tent. I was afraid of the dark as a child, but with my family all around me, there was nothing to be afraid of. One memory fragment I have is of waking up in the middle of the night and feeling cold. I got up and carefully felt my way around for a minute looking for the pile of blankets. When I found a blanket and tried to take it, someone pulled back, so I think I gave up.
Those bright summer days of roaming the sandy shore of the lake seemed endless. The particular area where we always camped had kind of a little cliff with a long slope of sand stretching out in front of it. We used to climb to the top of the slope and then run down, or roll down all the way to the bottom. I kind of remember Brad stepping on a cactus there one time. I think Mom has some pictures of us rolling down that slope.
Speaking of pictures, I remember one picture that Mom has. It is of me holding a tiny little tadpole in my cupped hands. I only vaguely remember catching tadpoles where the water was very shallow. Actually, I think someone else caught the tadpole, maybe Brad, and gave it to me so Mom could take the picture. I was very young, couldn’t have been more than five. I think my hair was still mostly blond in that picture.
Of course, we would go out on the boat, too, but that wasn’t my favorite part of going to the lake. Dad liked to go fishing, but I never cared much for it. Also, Mom and the older kids would water ski, but I was too little. We had to wear those bulky orange life-jackets, too, and I hated wearing them. I remember one time when the boat broke down, and Dad had to call out on the CB radio to get someone to tow us back to the marina.
Just fragments. I remember Spam and squeezy cheese in a tube that we put on crackers or celery. I remember different flavors of Shasta sodas, we call it pop here in the Midwest. Those were special treats that we only indulged in at the lake, making our time there even more special. I can’t really remember what else we ate. I remember the little portable am/fm radio. Barry Manilow’s “Copa Cabana” was a big hit one summer, I remember hearing it on the radio at the lake. And sand, sand, sand. No matter how you tried, it just got into everything.
Our little family vacations sure were fun, and they always ended too soon. The saddest part was taking the boat out of the water because then you really knew it was over. “Just one more dip in the water? Please, Mom, please?” The answer was always "No.” Back into the pickup we went, and back home to the boring old farm.
Those were the good old days, all right. It’s tempting, sometimes, to wish for those days again, but that’s just not the way of things. God gave each one of us a unique past, and a unique set of life experiences. All of our lives He works to make each one of us a unique and valuable part of His plan.
We all have good memories, and bad memories. We should never wish the bad ones had never happened, because they made us who we are, just as much as the good ones did. Wishing for a different past is like telling God He made a mistake. He shaped each of us to perform a particular task, something that no other person on Earth can do. It’s our job to find out what that task is, and do it to the best of our abilities. And the greatest thing about God is that it’s never too late. As long as you are drawing breath, there’s still time. Make the most of it!
1 Corinthians 12:12 The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ.
That was a lot different than the family vacations we took when I was a kid. I’m talking way back in the 70’s, when Mom and Dad were still married. Dad was a farmer, as I have mentioned before, and we couldn’t go anywhere as long as he had to water the crops. So we waited for rain. It had to be a pretty good rain, too, so that he didn’t have to irrigate for a few days. When the rain finally came, we would put the topper on the pickup, hook up the boat, and head for Lake McConaughy, which is out east near Ogallala, Nebraska..
Mom and Dad would ride up front, and us four kids all rode in the back of the pickup with lots of blankets and pillows to flop around on. The tent, sleeping bags and coolers would all be packed in the boat for the trip. Those were such simple times. We didn’t worry about seat belts and air bags and crash test ratings, we just hopped in the back of the pickup, and off we went. If anyone tried that today, they’d probably be thrown in jail and their kids sent to foster homes. I don’t remember at all how long the trip to the lake was. I know it had to be at least a couple of hours, but we didn't mind. Getting there really was half the fun in those days.
Most of my memories of our camping trips are only fragments. There wasn't any one trip in particular that stands out in my mind. Our tent was blue and yellow and was big enough for all six of us. I remember the pitch blackness of those nights in the tent. I was afraid of the dark as a child, but with my family all around me, there was nothing to be afraid of. One memory fragment I have is of waking up in the middle of the night and feeling cold. I got up and carefully felt my way around for a minute looking for the pile of blankets. When I found a blanket and tried to take it, someone pulled back, so I think I gave up.
Those bright summer days of roaming the sandy shore of the lake seemed endless. The particular area where we always camped had kind of a little cliff with a long slope of sand stretching out in front of it. We used to climb to the top of the slope and then run down, or roll down all the way to the bottom. I kind of remember Brad stepping on a cactus there one time. I think Mom has some pictures of us rolling down that slope.
Speaking of pictures, I remember one picture that Mom has. It is of me holding a tiny little tadpole in my cupped hands. I only vaguely remember catching tadpoles where the water was very shallow. Actually, I think someone else caught the tadpole, maybe Brad, and gave it to me so Mom could take the picture. I was very young, couldn’t have been more than five. I think my hair was still mostly blond in that picture.
Of course, we would go out on the boat, too, but that wasn’t my favorite part of going to the lake. Dad liked to go fishing, but I never cared much for it. Also, Mom and the older kids would water ski, but I was too little. We had to wear those bulky orange life-jackets, too, and I hated wearing them. I remember one time when the boat broke down, and Dad had to call out on the CB radio to get someone to tow us back to the marina.
Just fragments. I remember Spam and squeezy cheese in a tube that we put on crackers or celery. I remember different flavors of Shasta sodas, we call it pop here in the Midwest. Those were special treats that we only indulged in at the lake, making our time there even more special. I can’t really remember what else we ate. I remember the little portable am/fm radio. Barry Manilow’s “Copa Cabana” was a big hit one summer, I remember hearing it on the radio at the lake. And sand, sand, sand. No matter how you tried, it just got into everything.
Our little family vacations sure were fun, and they always ended too soon. The saddest part was taking the boat out of the water because then you really knew it was over. “Just one more dip in the water? Please, Mom, please?” The answer was always "No.” Back into the pickup we went, and back home to the boring old farm.
Those were the good old days, all right. It’s tempting, sometimes, to wish for those days again, but that’s just not the way of things. God gave each one of us a unique past, and a unique set of life experiences. All of our lives He works to make each one of us a unique and valuable part of His plan.
We all have good memories, and bad memories. We should never wish the bad ones had never happened, because they made us who we are, just as much as the good ones did. Wishing for a different past is like telling God He made a mistake. He shaped each of us to perform a particular task, something that no other person on Earth can do. It’s our job to find out what that task is, and do it to the best of our abilities. And the greatest thing about God is that it’s never too late. As long as you are drawing breath, there’s still time. Make the most of it!
1 Corinthians 12:12 The body is a unit, though it is made up of many parts; and though all its parts are many, they form one body. So it is with Christ.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Memories - Thanksgiving
Well, Thanksgiving is almost here again. What does Thanksgiving make me think of? Food, of course! But more importantly it makes me think of family. As with most families, Thanksgiving for us was about getting together to enjoy good food and good company.
My parents split up when I was 9 and the arrangement we had was Thanksgiving with Dad, Christmas with Mom. I was young enough when this tradition began that it always seemed perfectly natural to me. As a matter of fact, I honestly can’t remember any Thanksgivings before that. I have no idea what we did when my parents were still married.
So we always gathered at Grandma Brandt’s house. She always did all the cooking herself. I don’t think she would have trusted anyone else in her kitchen. Uncle Gary and Aunt Ellen would always come from Des Moines, along with our three cousins Jeff, Greg, and Eric. That was kind of special in itself because Uncle Gary and family only came to visit twice a year.
Those are good memories. The house would smell so good and there would be so many people around. Then after dinner we could go out and show our cousins around the farm. I remember one year we found a lump of some kind of chalky stuff and we used it to write all over an old shed. Then Grandpa Meril Dean saw it and made us clean it off. That was the same Grandpa that got after us for making paths through the corn. What a fuddy-duddy!
Inevitably, there came a year when Grandma said she just couldn’t do all that cooking anymore. I don’t blame her, I know how much work that is, but Thanksgiving just never felt the same after that. Instead of our home-cooked feasts, we started going out for Thanksgiving dinner. And it wasn’t long after that when Uncle Gary stopped coming. His boys were grown and they had gatherings of their own to attend.
We still had our time together with Dad and Grandma and Grandpa though. That tradition held until the mid 90’s. Grandpa died in 1992 and Dad in 1995. And us kids were grown by then too. Brad had a family of his own, and Bobbi had her family out on the east coast. Kevin was who-knows-where by then. That was around the time that I moved away too. It’s a little sad when traditions end and families grow and spread out, but that’s the natural order of things.
After that, our Thanksgivings were catch-as-catch-can. You were never really sure who might show up on any given year. In 2003, Joni and Adam came to live with me and all the sudden I had a family of my own. For the next six years we had quiet gatherings in our little apartment in Dallas. I always missed my family back home, just as Joni missed hers, but I have to admit that I enjoyed the quieter atmosphere and the beginning of a new tradition.
Now here I am back in Nebraska again, and it looks like Thanksgiving this year is going to be something really special. This year marks the first time that my three siblings and I will all be together at the same time since about 1987. I'm only guessing here, but I think Mom is kind of excited about that. I find that I’m a little excited about it too. My daughter, Brenna, will be coming so not only will us four kids be there, but also all of the grandkids; about 10 in all I think. That will be quite a crowd!
That will be on Wednesday since that was the only day we could all get together. On Thanksgiving day, Brad and family go to His mother-in-law’s, and Joni and I have decided to have our traditional quiet gathering here at the house. I find that I am looking forward to both gatherings with equal anticipation.
Traditions are so important in this crazy, ever-changing world we live in. They give us a sense of belonging; something to come home to. I said earlier that it’s sad when traditions end, but maybe they don’t really end. Maybe they just grow and evolve, like our families. The gatherings I am looking forward to this week will involve very different groups of people than the gatherings of my childhood, but it's still family, and it's still Thanksgiving. I will enjoy it while it lasts and look forward to future holidays, whatever shape they may take.
Thanks for reading today. I hope you enjoy a wonderful Thanksgiving tradition with your own family this year. And if you don’t have a tradition, it’s never too late to start a new one.
Jeremiah 30:19 And out of them shall proceed thanksgiving and the voice of them that make merry: and I will multiply them, and they shall not be few; I shall also glorify them and they shall not be small.
My parents split up when I was 9 and the arrangement we had was Thanksgiving with Dad, Christmas with Mom. I was young enough when this tradition began that it always seemed perfectly natural to me. As a matter of fact, I honestly can’t remember any Thanksgivings before that. I have no idea what we did when my parents were still married.
So we always gathered at Grandma Brandt’s house. She always did all the cooking herself. I don’t think she would have trusted anyone else in her kitchen. Uncle Gary and Aunt Ellen would always come from Des Moines, along with our three cousins Jeff, Greg, and Eric. That was kind of special in itself because Uncle Gary and family only came to visit twice a year.
Those are good memories. The house would smell so good and there would be so many people around. Then after dinner we could go out and show our cousins around the farm. I remember one year we found a lump of some kind of chalky stuff and we used it to write all over an old shed. Then Grandpa Meril Dean saw it and made us clean it off. That was the same Grandpa that got after us for making paths through the corn. What a fuddy-duddy!
Inevitably, there came a year when Grandma said she just couldn’t do all that cooking anymore. I don’t blame her, I know how much work that is, but Thanksgiving just never felt the same after that. Instead of our home-cooked feasts, we started going out for Thanksgiving dinner. And it wasn’t long after that when Uncle Gary stopped coming. His boys were grown and they had gatherings of their own to attend.
We still had our time together with Dad and Grandma and Grandpa though. That tradition held until the mid 90’s. Grandpa died in 1992 and Dad in 1995. And us kids were grown by then too. Brad had a family of his own, and Bobbi had her family out on the east coast. Kevin was who-knows-where by then. That was around the time that I moved away too. It’s a little sad when traditions end and families grow and spread out, but that’s the natural order of things.
After that, our Thanksgivings were catch-as-catch-can. You were never really sure who might show up on any given year. In 2003, Joni and Adam came to live with me and all the sudden I had a family of my own. For the next six years we had quiet gatherings in our little apartment in Dallas. I always missed my family back home, just as Joni missed hers, but I have to admit that I enjoyed the quieter atmosphere and the beginning of a new tradition.
Now here I am back in Nebraska again, and it looks like Thanksgiving this year is going to be something really special. This year marks the first time that my three siblings and I will all be together at the same time since about 1987. I'm only guessing here, but I think Mom is kind of excited about that. I find that I’m a little excited about it too. My daughter, Brenna, will be coming so not only will us four kids be there, but also all of the grandkids; about 10 in all I think. That will be quite a crowd!
That will be on Wednesday since that was the only day we could all get together. On Thanksgiving day, Brad and family go to His mother-in-law’s, and Joni and I have decided to have our traditional quiet gathering here at the house. I find that I am looking forward to both gatherings with equal anticipation.
Traditions are so important in this crazy, ever-changing world we live in. They give us a sense of belonging; something to come home to. I said earlier that it’s sad when traditions end, but maybe they don’t really end. Maybe they just grow and evolve, like our families. The gatherings I am looking forward to this week will involve very different groups of people than the gatherings of my childhood, but it's still family, and it's still Thanksgiving. I will enjoy it while it lasts and look forward to future holidays, whatever shape they may take.
Thanks for reading today. I hope you enjoy a wonderful Thanksgiving tradition with your own family this year. And if you don’t have a tradition, it’s never too late to start a new one.
Jeremiah 30:19 And out of them shall proceed thanksgiving and the voice of them that make merry: and I will multiply them, and they shall not be few; I shall also glorify them and they shall not be small.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Astri's Story
**Note for screen-readers: My reader is not pronouncing Astri correctly. The spelling is A,S,T,R,I. The emphasis is on the first syllable, and the second syllable is pronounced tree, not try.
Greetings, and welcome to Drums In The Deep. You’ve come at a good time because I’m about to describe one of the most important periods of my life. A truly defining moment if ever there was one. This is Astri’s story…
Astri’s story begins in late 2003. Joni, Adam, and I had been living together for about half a year and we were struggling pretty hard. Struggling financially as we always have, but also struggling to adapt to our new lives as a family. It was October of that year that Joni discovered she was pregnant.
Now, I won’t try to describe Joni’s thoughts or feelings here because that is her story to tell, but I can give you my own perspective. I was scared. The thought of having a baby was exciting, but mostly it was scary.
First of all, what would my family think? Joni and I were not married and I worried that they would not approve. Also, how on earth were we going to afford a baby? We were barely paying the bills as it was. And would I be a good father? I already had a six year old daughter back in Nebraska that I had only seen a couple of times.
As you can see, I was really hung up on things like universal approval and money and failure. Well, without God in my life these are the kinds of things that consumed me. These are the things I thought were important. It’s sad to think about those days.
In spite of all my fear and worry, I gradually got used to the idea of having a baby. We talked about names. Joni liked the name Steven for a boy, go figure. I liked the name Astri for a girl. I was big into genealogy at the time and the nameAstri appeared several times in a Norwegian branch of my family.
Okay, fast forward to April 2004. It was a Monday and I had gone to work as usual. At around 9 or 10 that morning Joni called me and said, “I need to go to the hospital”. Oh boy, not good. Astri was not due until June. I raced home as fast as I could to pick up Joni and Adam and off we went. Adam is, and was, home-schooled if you’re wondering why he was home. The hospital was only about a mile away so that was good.
They took Joni in right away to make her comfortable while Adam and I went off to fill out paperwork. But we were all together again in time for the ultrasound. The doctor confirmed what we were already beginning to suspect. Astri was no longer living.
After that, they put Joni in a delivery room. All that was left to do was wait. They said the baby would come out naturally. They were going to make Adam wait outside when it was time but I think God had other plans. Joni gave birth very quickly and sooner than was expected. The three of us were alone in the room when it happened. Maybe you’re thinking that wasn’t a good place for an 8 year old to be, but I’m glad he can look back on that experience and say, “I was there”.
Astri Celia Brandt was born on April 26, 2004. She would have been 5 this year and starting school. She was with us for such a short time, and yet she will be with us forever. I love you Astri, and I miss you.
Mark 10:14 But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased and said unto them; Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God.f
Greetings, and welcome to Drums In The Deep. You’ve come at a good time because I’m about to describe one of the most important periods of my life. A truly defining moment if ever there was one. This is Astri’s story…
Astri’s story begins in late 2003. Joni, Adam, and I had been living together for about half a year and we were struggling pretty hard. Struggling financially as we always have, but also struggling to adapt to our new lives as a family. It was October of that year that Joni discovered she was pregnant.
Now, I won’t try to describe Joni’s thoughts or feelings here because that is her story to tell, but I can give you my own perspective. I was scared. The thought of having a baby was exciting, but mostly it was scary.
First of all, what would my family think? Joni and I were not married and I worried that they would not approve. Also, how on earth were we going to afford a baby? We were barely paying the bills as it was. And would I be a good father? I already had a six year old daughter back in Nebraska that I had only seen a couple of times.
As you can see, I was really hung up on things like universal approval and money and failure. Well, without God in my life these are the kinds of things that consumed me. These are the things I thought were important. It’s sad to think about those days.
In spite of all my fear and worry, I gradually got used to the idea of having a baby. We talked about names. Joni liked the name Steven for a boy, go figure. I liked the name Astri for a girl. I was big into genealogy at the time and the nameAstri appeared several times in a Norwegian branch of my family.
Okay, fast forward to April 2004. It was a Monday and I had gone to work as usual. At around 9 or 10 that morning Joni called me and said, “I need to go to the hospital”. Oh boy, not good. Astri was not due until June. I raced home as fast as I could to pick up Joni and Adam and off we went. Adam is, and was, home-schooled if you’re wondering why he was home. The hospital was only about a mile away so that was good.
They took Joni in right away to make her comfortable while Adam and I went off to fill out paperwork. But we were all together again in time for the ultrasound. The doctor confirmed what we were already beginning to suspect. Astri was no longer living.
After that, they put Joni in a delivery room. All that was left to do was wait. They said the baby would come out naturally. They were going to make Adam wait outside when it was time but I think God had other plans. Joni gave birth very quickly and sooner than was expected. The three of us were alone in the room when it happened. Maybe you’re thinking that wasn’t a good place for an 8 year old to be, but I’m glad he can look back on that experience and say, “I was there”.
Astri Celia Brandt was born on April 26, 2004. She would have been 5 this year and starting school. She was with us for such a short time, and yet she will be with us forever. I love you Astri, and I miss you.
Mark 10:14 But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased and said unto them; Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God.f
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Going Blind- Part 2
Let’s see now, where was I? Oh yes I remember; blind in my left eye but still with good vision in the right.
I was divorced by this time and had met Joni although she was still living in Baltimore. The thing that really helped me was knowing that the damage to my eye was not permanent. My cornea was ruined, but corneas can be transplanted. It was a lot of waiting though. My doctor had to make sure the infection was totally healed and would not come back before she would do any surgery.
Now, I want to explain how these transplants work. Once a cornea has been removed from the donor it can only be stored for five days. So the surgery is scheduled a month in advance without really knowing if there will be a cornea available or not. The day before the surgery they call you to let you know if they got one. Unfortunately I didn’t know that. My doctor never explained it and it never even occurred to me to ask.
I was so excited as the day of my surgery approached. I was living in Dallas at this time and Mom was driving all the way down from Nebraska to be there with me. The day before the surgery, they called me and said they did not have a cornea for me. I was flabbergasted to say the least. I had to call Mom and give her the news (she was more than halfway to Texas by then). She decided to turn around and go back so she could save her vacation time for when the surgery really happened. Years later she told me she felt bad about turning back but I totally agreed with her decision.
Anyway that was in January 2003, I think. They went ahead and re-scheduled the surgery for February. I began getting my hopes up all over again even though I tried not to.
The day before my surgery arrived again and this time I was prepared. I wasn’t going to let them surprise me again so I called that morning and asked if they had a cornea for me. They did! I was so excited! Mom was on the road again and I called her right away so she wouldn’t have to worry.
That afternoon the doctor’s office called me back. The cornea didn’t pass all the tests. Tests?? Yep, the cornea has to be tested for HIV and other things. That makes perfect sense but I didn’t know about that at the time. I was beyond crushed. I knew Mom was only a couple of hours away by then and I didn’t have the heart to call her so I just let her drive the rest of the way. The doctor wanted to re-schedule again but I said no. I just couldn’t go through it again.
In May of that year, Joni and Adam came to Dallas to live with me and Joni started talking me into re-scheduling the surgery. I finally relented in October and they scheduled me for November.
This time everything worked out. I got my new cornea on November 7. The doctor said I could take the bandage off the next morning, and when I did I could see! I had almost perfect vision in both eyes again after waiting for two years. Maybe God was just waiting until Joni was with me so I wouldn’t be alone for this. Certainly He was trying to teach me patience.
Well, obviously this is STILL not the end of the story but I will have to leave it here for this week. I warned you that this might take awhile. I hope you’ll come back to hear the rest!
Psalms 27:14 Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.
I was divorced by this time and had met Joni although she was still living in Baltimore. The thing that really helped me was knowing that the damage to my eye was not permanent. My cornea was ruined, but corneas can be transplanted. It was a lot of waiting though. My doctor had to make sure the infection was totally healed and would not come back before she would do any surgery.
Now, I want to explain how these transplants work. Once a cornea has been removed from the donor it can only be stored for five days. So the surgery is scheduled a month in advance without really knowing if there will be a cornea available or not. The day before the surgery they call you to let you know if they got one. Unfortunately I didn’t know that. My doctor never explained it and it never even occurred to me to ask.
I was so excited as the day of my surgery approached. I was living in Dallas at this time and Mom was driving all the way down from Nebraska to be there with me. The day before the surgery, they called me and said they did not have a cornea for me. I was flabbergasted to say the least. I had to call Mom and give her the news (she was more than halfway to Texas by then). She decided to turn around and go back so she could save her vacation time for when the surgery really happened. Years later she told me she felt bad about turning back but I totally agreed with her decision.
Anyway that was in January 2003, I think. They went ahead and re-scheduled the surgery for February. I began getting my hopes up all over again even though I tried not to.
The day before my surgery arrived again and this time I was prepared. I wasn’t going to let them surprise me again so I called that morning and asked if they had a cornea for me. They did! I was so excited! Mom was on the road again and I called her right away so she wouldn’t have to worry.
That afternoon the doctor’s office called me back. The cornea didn’t pass all the tests. Tests?? Yep, the cornea has to be tested for HIV and other things. That makes perfect sense but I didn’t know about that at the time. I was beyond crushed. I knew Mom was only a couple of hours away by then and I didn’t have the heart to call her so I just let her drive the rest of the way. The doctor wanted to re-schedule again but I said no. I just couldn’t go through it again.
In May of that year, Joni and Adam came to Dallas to live with me and Joni started talking me into re-scheduling the surgery. I finally relented in October and they scheduled me for November.
This time everything worked out. I got my new cornea on November 7. The doctor said I could take the bandage off the next morning, and when I did I could see! I had almost perfect vision in both eyes again after waiting for two years. Maybe God was just waiting until Joni was with me so I wouldn’t be alone for this. Certainly He was trying to teach me patience.
Well, obviously this is STILL not the end of the story but I will have to leave it here for this week. I warned you that this might take awhile. I hope you’ll come back to hear the rest!
Psalms 27:14 Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.
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