Tuesday Appointments

Logan had his audiology and vision evaluations at CHO this morning. Audiology was pretty much a joke, since he's been yelling for a few days now and woke up overnight complaining that his ear hurt, but the appointment was at 8 AM so there was no opportunity to cancel and reschedule. The result is that his left ear is normal, but the right isn't good at all. But as I was able to confirm at the pediatrician's office this afternoon, it is indeed infected, so it's hard to say how good --or bad-- the actual hearing is. He'll go back in a few months to test again. (For now, he's on Augmentin and Ciprodex drops to get the infection under control.)

The vision test wound up being more of a positive (and useful) experience. As it turns out, he hasn't lost any vision in his right eye after all, which is obviously excellent news. He's slightly near-sighted, but so am I. And so is Adam. And it's not bad enough to need corrective lenses. So where does that leave us? Surgery. The doctor told Adam that the nerve in his eye suffered damage thanks to the tumor's presence, so the only way to 'fix' it is to shorten the muscle in the eye, which will force it to track straight forward. The whole idea gives me the heebie jeebies, but I'm so grateful that his vision hasn't been impaired that I almost don't care.

I did say almost. It's true that things that would make normal, non-oncology parents cringe and have heart palpitations --like surgeries-- don't really get under my skin anymore, but some days are definitely harder than others. I've learned --the hard way-- just how unfair life can be. Though I've gotten better at letting negative thoughts and worries roll off my back, I still have my share of bad days, when I feel the weight of our situation and a sense of sad hopelessness sets in. I'm not saying that I'm there now; it's merely something of a perspective-check. But I am saying that I'm struggling a bit. I look at Logan and his puffed cheeks, his limp, his occasionally trembling hands (all things that his doctor attributes to the decadron, for what it's worth), the dark circles under his eyes, just the way that disease --and ironically, treatment-- has ravaged his little body. There's nothing I can say about any of it that's particularly heartening. It makes me angry and sad and frustrated. But it is what it is. I know that some day, his inner beauty will manifest itself externally once again, but for now, it's painful to see the suffering written across his face.

Thanks for your continued prayers. There's a lot of need here; please pray for peace for us, and for hope and belief and faith and all of those things that we desperately need just to get up in the mornings. Please pray for Logan's health; pray for wisdom for his medical team, for resolution of his limp, for minimal side effects as his decadron dose is decreased, and for an improved mood and outlook. Have a good evening.