Finn had eye surgery on both eyes early Monday morning. The doctor discovered that both were actually pulling in, the right more than the left. The muscle behind the eyes was too tight, so apparently he cut it…I asked him not to tell me any more details. Gives me the creeps.
We watched with tired, blurry eyes the sobering Sandy Hook shooting news coverage in the waiting room, thankful for a child who is alive. My heart has been heavy all week in the wake of such senseless evil. Joey and I discussed the reality that Satan “prowls around like a lion, looking for someone to devour.” His depravity extends far beyond simply tempting me to be selfish or worry or even smoke a cigar. He delights in death…of innocent children. Big sigh.
“Finn,” the nurse called toward us into the waiting room, snapping us out of our sadness. I’m never prepared for the recovery room. I’m just so excited to see Finn and thankful that it’s over that I forget this is often the worst part. Children are moaning and crying and parents are on edge. Even if Finn is sedated, he cries in unison with the baby behind the curtain next to us. His IV is still in, bruising his tiny forearm. It’s not a fun place. Remind me to prepare myself next time.
They can turn in again; however, so I’m not getting my hopes up. We’re told another surgery is likely, but we’ve witnessed bigger miracles. Let’s just not talk about giving him his 3x daily eye drops…trauma.
We are ready for a break. I’m sure you are too.