Cancer and Baby Eyes

Over the course of the last two months, it seems like God is testing me. It started off innocently enough. At Timothy's four-month checkup, the doctor noticed that Tim's eyes were still drifting, and his eyelids were still drooping. We (meaning my husband and I) almost expected it. There is a long line of drooped eyelids and lazy eyes on his side of the family, starting with my husband and ending with his grandmother, with at least seven people in between. The pediatrician, who we call Dr. Chad, referred us to a REAL eye doctor. My husband had surgery at age 3 1/2 to fix his drooped eyelids, so we expected that too.

Two weeks later, we're at the eye specialist, and the doctor (who we'll call Dr. G) came in. Timmy looked at him with big blue eyes, and Dr. G almost told us there was nothing wrong with him. In the time it took him to turn, write something in the chart, and turn back, Tim's right eyelid was now drooped. This didn't surprise the doctor, and he said that was perfectly normal in cases of drooped eyelid. Again, in the time it took him to turn, write, and turn back, now his right eyelid was fine and his left eye was drooped. Dr. G about dropped his pencil. He said he had never seen this kind of drooped eyelid before, and referred us to the hospital to have bloodwork done. For any parent who has had their baby get blood drawn from their arm, you know the pain your heart projects into your soul, knowing that you, the one who was supposed to protect, is now the one putting your screaming, crying child through the process of getting blood sucked from their arm. But both Tim and mommy made it through okay, although we were both puffy, red-eyed, teared up individuals when we left.

After six weeks of impatient waiting, we got the results. Everything was normal. It was almost anticlimatic after all the waiting, but then they dropped the bombshell...they were referring us to Riley Children's Hospital in Indianapolis. They could have ripped my heart out of my chest, and suddenly I was reminded of all the pain and heartache and joy my parents went through in that hospital. That hospital saved their daughter, but it was also the same hospital where my mother held my 1 1/2 year old brother as he took his last breath, dying of something even the doctors had never heard of. I know now how my parents must have felt, knowing they were helpless. Although my son has something common and simple, I don't want my baby going through pain.

In the midst of all the waiting, it was now time for Timmy's six month checkup. Dr. Chad had asked me how I was feeling, and I told him the truth: I was exhausted to the extent of falling asleep fifteen minutes after sitting, no matter what time of day it was; I was having continuous headaches, and having severe pain in my abdomen. He sent me for blood work to test my thyroid, and an ultrasound on my abdomen. It was there they found three masses on my uterus and one on my ovary. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was equivilent to getting punched in the stomach. In an instant I saw my life, my future, slipping away. Although I realize that particular reaction was a little premature, but in our family history a lot of family members were diagnosed with cancer, and only one so far has survived. I was sent for a CT scan.

For some reason, God is smiling on me. Friday I got the results, and it was determined that the masses found were just scar tissue. So my life, though shortened quite a bit through worrying, will hopefully be a long one. I look forward to seeing the future I imagined: seeing my boys grow up, go to school, graduate, getting married, having babies, and my husband and I growing old together. Now that I think about it, any future is a great one.