Closure

All the world is full of suffering, it is also full of overcoming.  --Helen Keller

Two weeks ago we met with Moise's eye doctor for his post op/talk about what comes next appointment.

  I had no idea what to expect from this appointment.  I knew that we had taken a risk going sans eye patch after the cataract surgery on the right eye.  I knew also that this appointment could very possibly send us on a journey of unknowns where the left eye was concerned.  My stomach clenched tight at the very idea of corneal transplant.

Much to my relief, the right eye looked better than we even dared to hope.  There was evidence of very minimal hemorrhage, but that was good considering there was no patch protecting it.  Moise cooperated beautifully (cooperation is rare at the eye doctor) giving the doctor a very clear view of that right eye.  While it is doubtful that there will be any vision gained from the surgery, we have confidence that there will be no further loss.  Because we don't want to miss even the slightest bit of vision that he may have, next week we will meet with a team of doctors who will work together to determine  what, if anything, he can see. From there, they will come up with a prescription that will give him the greatest level of vision enhancement. I'm excited about this.  Moise has a way of defying all the laws of medicine and I am holding onto hope for that eye.

My heart skipped a few beats as the doctor leaned back and said "Now, let's talk about the left eye." He told me that the eye is so "hazy and cloudy and messy"  that light cannot penetrate the lens. "Simply put," he said, "if I can't see in through the lens, Moise can't see out."  In other words, the left eye is nothing more than darkness. This wasn't exactly a surprise.  The only possible option for improvement would be a corneal transplant.  Doctor consulted with several doctors, including a transplant specialist, and the consensus is that "Moise is not a good transplant candidate."  He leaned close when he said "a corneal transplant is a long and very difficult process for a healthy 50 year old man who understands exactly what's going on. We just can't see how it would be possible for Moise." 

I knew this.  In my soul I knew that a transplant would not be a viable option for Moise.  Still, it took a few moments for my brain to process what he was saying.   Finally I asked, "So?? That's it?? It's done??  We do nothing more with that eye??"

"Correct,"  he said, "and if there is vision in the right eye, we make that work as much as it possibly can for him."

And you know what?  It's okay.  It's more than okay. It's closure.  It's freedom to accept what is, to step away from all the turmoil that this eye has caused and move forward.   For nearly two years we have fought for this eye and now it's done.  It's over.  We don't have to fight anymore. 

The truth is.........Moise accepted it long ago.  He has adapted to his vision loss. I am the one who has struggled and fought so hard against it.    Because I thought it would limit him even more.   Because it felt so incredibly unfair.  Because I didn't want to have to adapt to the changes.

Here's the thing about Moise.  He's resilient, far more so than I could ever be.  He's brave.  He's amazing.  He's learning to communicate without vision.  He's learning to read braille, in spite of the fact that we were told he probably didn't have the cognition to learn it. He already knows the letters A, B, C, T, H, F and M and short words containing these letters and he'll keep learning until he knows them all.  I know it.  Moise does not need vision to be the best that he can be. 

Add caption

It's finished.  The search for answers and solutions, the disappointment, the anger, the resentment, the endless eye appointments  We have fought hard and done everything possible to restore vision.  But we cannot.  We know that now and there is great freedom in acceptance.  We know that we can't change what is but I suspect it will change us.

God is good, all the time.