*Mom, you might not want to read this. It might make you cry. This is your warning.*
I’m not sure if I posted about it here, but a few weeks ago, Dad had yet another eye surgery in Little Rock. It was pretty involved- two different doctors, three different procedures.
To back track, back in January, he had an infection from a treatment (a treatment which he was getting to try and stop him from losing his vision), and had to have emergency surgery to remove the infection. That’s initially what sent him to the hospital and then the nursing home. The surgery didn’t play well with his Alzheimer’s- and it progressed him quickly.
His vision did improve some, but then quickly started degrading again. The doctor told us he needed this last ditch surgery to try and save any vision he had. However, yesterday we found out that his eye isn’t responding to light. He is blind.
Yes, the issues were only with one eye- but dad’s other eye is glass (an effect from a childhood disease). So he was only playing with one eye to begin with….and now it’s gone.
So he is blind. With Alzheimer’s. A terrible combination.
And to be honest, if I think too long about it, I get a tight feeling in my chest. It’s an overwhelming grief feeling.
Dad is adjusting pretty well. At first, he was pretty apprehensive. He didn’t trust anyone to help him. Getting up to the wheelchair or to the bathroom was a struggle. Meal times were tough. He didn’t trust anyone feeding him (of course, since he can’t see the plate he can’t feed himself). However, his spirit has been pretty good. And gradually, he is becoming more accustomed to not seeing.
But I can’t help but think of the “nevers.” The things dad will never see again. Or see at all.
He will never see his grandchild- my daughter. He will never see my mom again. She is such a source of comfort for him- she is familiar and comfortable. He will never see her face again. He will never see his bedspread- which while that sounds silly- it gave him peace and comfort to know that red bed was “his.” He was able to rest knowing he was in the right place. He loved hamburgers and ice cream. He can keep eating them, but he will never see them and recognize them. He got so much joy out of perfectly red strawberries. Not the ones with the white inside. The ones at the height of summer that were juicy red all the way through. No more seeing those.
He will never see anyone smile. He will never see. Period.
I have hope that God could give him sight. I’m not sure that’s in His will, but I will pray for it. The Bible actually has a lot to say about blindness. Jesus healed MANY blind people (who knew blindness was so common?!)
A few verses I’m clinging to:
I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.
I was eyes to the blind and feet to the lame.
The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor.
The blind and the lame came to him at the temple, and he healed them.
So even if God won’t heal him, God will guide him. Comfort him. I have hope in that.