This morning, we roused four sleepy, tousled children at 6 am. Three of them would be staying with friends and family, while Hubby and I took Abi to Spokane to have an exam under anesthesia and possible surgery. In spite of the snow flurries, our drive there was uneventful, and we got checked into the Pediatric Surgery and talked to our Ophthalmologist. (Aside: see how many big words I can now spell right? For a long time, I had to rely on the squiggly red line to help with "ophthalmologist.")
Things went smoothly, until the surgeon came to us with sagging shoulders after the procedure. It had not been successful.
Let me try to explain in a nutshell what had happened. Abi's eyes are large and swollen due to congenital glaucoma. This means that the little valve in her eyes that drains fluid from her eyeball never formed when she was tiny. As a result, the pressure inside each eyeball has risen to extremely high levels, permanently damaging her optic nerves.
The doctor intended to check her pressure today, and if it was high, he'd attempt to create an artificial drain in her eyeball. It was high, and the procedure turned surgical. He ran into trouble, however, by the fact that the "wall" of her eye, the sclera, is so thin and stretched that he was unable to separate the layers to create a channel for the fluid to drain without cutting all the way through and seriously damaging the eye.
So now we're left with a dilemma. Do we attempt another surgery (or another? or another?) to lower the pressure and save the scrap of sight she has in her left eye? How useful is that fragment of limited sight to her anyway? What exactly can she even see? Do we forgo additional surgeries on her already delicate and damaged left eye? Her sight may not be able to be saved much longer even if we do multiple surgeries. How inevitable is total blindness? Do we seek a second opinion? A third? Do we travel to points yonder seeking other specialists?
Conventional "sighted" wisdom says to fight to save her sight at all costs. Blind friends tell me stories about multiple painful and ultimately unnecessary and invasive surgeries they have undergone that they wish they hadn't had to endure. My own experience with low vision and interacting with eye doctors colors my opinion somewhat, and Hubby is wrestling with the same questions from the viewpoint of perfect sight, but knowing Abi was blind before we ever finalized her adoption.
It goes without saying that we'll pray for wisdom. We'll talk and weigh every option. We'll make the best decision that we can make for the welfare of our daughter.
But, man oh man, is it a hard decision.
