Wednesday, November 18, 2015

I Drank Those Colors In

Two years ago this week I nearly went blind. I went to my eye doctor for a new prescription for contacts, and by the end of the day I was sitting in the office of a retina specialist. The retinas of both eyes had holes in them, and the left had developed a tear which, if left unchecked, would result in complete blindness of that eye. I had known for several years that I was at risk or retina detachment, so I knew what symptoms to look for. They just happened to occur when I already had an appointment. So my eye doctor dilated my eyes when I told him I had been seeing silvery blobs drift across my vision as well as gobs and gobs of floaters. He saw the holes that had formed and immediately called a specialist and asked that I be seen as soon as possible that day.

So I needed to get to Tyler, which was about forty-five minutes away. I didn't know how to get there, and furthermore, I could not drive safely since my eyes were so dilated that the light made it impossible for me to open my eyes more than a slit. Eyes watering profusely, I felt awash in a dread panicky feeling. I had no idea how I was going to get myself to that new doctor. I fumbled my way out to my truck with my disposable sunglasses looped over my regular glasses. Too much light came in around the edges for them to help with the brilliant sunlight, so I put my contacts in as I sat in the driver's seat trying to figure out what to do. With my normal sunglasses on I could tolerate opening my eyes. Good. I couldn't focus on the screen of my phone. Not good. I looked up at a shop sign outside the window, and I could not read the huge letters...I needed to be able to read the little print on highway signs to drive the unfamiliar roads. After a painstaking effort, I was able to navigate my phone book;  I called Titus, who was at work, an hour away from where I was. Maybe he could come get me and drive me to Tyler...or at least tell me how to get there, although I couldn't read the directions I would write for myself. No answer. I tired his office phone. Again, no answer. I didn't have the plant's main office number, so I called my dad who does the water treatment for Titus' plant. My idea was to get that number from Daddy and then see if they could get Titus on a phone to talk to me, since he must have been out on the floor where the machines were so loud he couldn't hear his cell phone.

"Hi! Um, my eyes are broken, and I need to get to Tyler, but I don't know the way, and I can't get Titus on the phone...do you have the main number for his office?" I squeaked.

Daddy was just a few blocks away in Lowe's. I was on the road now--heading in the complete wrong direction to get to Tyler, it turns out. But I could get to Lowe's! (I could drive to Lowe's in my sleep!) What were the odds of Daddy being off that weekday? Very slim. And what were the odds that he would just happen to be right down the street when I called? Impossible. This was yet another instance of God's provision that day.

So Daddy drove me to Tyler, and as my eyes slowly returned to normal from the extreme "hoot owl" look they had when dilated, I was able to squint out the window at all the trees. In East Texas, the trees wait until nearly Thanksgiving to turn, and this was the most brilliant I had ever seen them. That day on the road to Tyler, they were at their peak. The pines were scattered with oaks, maples, sweet gum, dogwood, redbuds, crepe myrtle, and muscadine vines that were so brilliantly colored you could mistake the scene for New England. At this point I had no idea if I was going to lose my sight or if the doctor could fix it. I drank those colors in. I knew if I lost my sight that day that I would always remember those trees.
A tree in our back yard in Hughes Springs around the time of my eye surgery.


After the minor heart attack of figuring out a plan, I felt calm. I didn't know how things were going to turn out, but I felt at peace and I was already amazed at how things were falling into place. Those fiery trees were like a rainbow of promise, that even if I lost every drop of my sight and never saw colors again, God was still good, and He would provide.

My view of the back yard while recovering from surgery.

That day I had laser surgery on both eyes to stop the tearing in my left eye and prevent the holes from becoming tears in my right eye. The next night I went to the hospital for the big surgery where I was given a scleral buckle in my left eye. (Don't look up the YouTube video of that surgery unless you have a tough stomach.) Retinal detachment doesn't hurt at all, but the damage is permanent. I lost a little of the peripheral vision on my right eye, and pretty much all of it on my left eye, including some at the top and bottom of my vision. (So there's a C-shaped scoop that's gone now.) But I am so thankful for what I have left! Now every year when I see the leaves changing colors, I remember how God brought all the pieces together and preserved my sight.
A lovely crepe myrtle with bamboo in the background.