For me, August is always a month of preparation and anticipation. My delightfully long summer vacation is drawing to a close, my stir-crazy kiddos are in need of predictable routines, and I'm excited for Kevin to start doing the laundry again. The teacher in me loves August because it holds the promise of something new, but for Faith August is beginning to mean something different. Last August was a big month for my Faithy-pie because we discovered that she was born with a cataract which required surgery and frequent follow-up visits to Dr. Khammar, our new favorite doctor. She had the cataract removed one week before her 5th birthday and her first day of kindergarten, she giggled her way into the operating room (thanks to a little dose of pink syrup), she weathered her daily doses of drops with decreasing Resistance, and she held her breath waiting for the day Dr. Khammar told her she could finally get glasses. There were a few bumps in the road before those darling little glasses were hers...we needed a follow-up laser surgery to correct a small complication. The doctor explained the procedure to both of us, and she listened along with me, smiling happily when he said a prescription for glasses would come on the same day as this second surgery.One year has passed since we learned about the cataract, and in that time she's been dilated, measured and tested more than I have in my life. She cares for her glasses better than I could imagine, and she patches with fewer complaints each day. Faith has been a serious participant in her own recovery. Her eyesight will always be far from perfect, but will continue to improve through her grade school years. She has improved from 20/200 to 20/70 in the course of a year...but we've hit another bump...minor, again, but somehow more painful.
Tuesday, we learned that the new lens in Faith's eye has a cloudy film forming over it, called reopacification or a secondary cataract. It's not possible for the cataract to grow back, but this film can obstruct her vision in the same way the original cataract did. The fix is another "simple" laser procedure, and since the doctor thinks Faith is a "really good girl" he thinks this procedure can be done in the office while she is awake. Umm...are you sure, Dr. Khammar? This is the girl who will wear bandaids until they fall off because it hurts to rip them off. She spends days anticipating the removal of a partially stuck bandaid, and you want her to be still enough for you to stick something in her eye for 2-3 minutes? We can't put eye drops in without a struggle...how is this going to work?
Once again he explained the procedure, once again Faith listened and nodded. We can do the procedure quickly and painlessly in the office as long as she's still and listens to directions, or we can have the procedure done at the hospital under anesthesia..."Let's try in the office first, I really think she can do it." I left the office feeling defeated rather than proud of the vision gains Faith made in the course of the year, and for the first time Faith seemed to be concerned as well. We got to the car, she asked questions, expressed doubt and sought alternative options. One year later and this little girl has become contemplative and concerned. Gone is the girl who is pacified with a sucker and stickers...but ice cream did seem to help. She heard me call Kevin with the news, heard me reassure Kevin's doubts about her ability to do it in the office, and she heard me praise her bravery. Her response, "I'm brave Mom, but not brave enough to do it when I'm awake."
The next morning her bravado seemed to crumble. I brushed her hair, we talked about her eyes and what's next. She said she wanted to "be asleep, and just wake up with it done." I said I'd call the doctor to change the plans, she went to brush her teeth. She returned in tears sobbing and defeated..."I just want to be a kid without a cataract, a kid who doesn't need surgery." I hugged her, she cried. We talked about bravery, and how lucky we are that it's only her eye that is giving her trouble. We counted our blessings, dried our tears and she told me she wanted to have the procedure in the office and that we were done talking about it..."for real, done."
So that's where it stands. We now have one more thing to anticipate and prepare for on our August "To do" list. Faith will give the in-office laser treatment a shot on August 26th, and she's determined to make it work. She's a much different little girl than she was one year ago: braver, more reflective and more mature. She knows it's for the best, but she knows it really sucks too.
