Then and Now. . .

Yesterday I thought a lot about what happened back on December 1, 1979.  That was the day my 4-year-old brother, Travis, tugged his stuck scissors out of a cardboard box he was cutting (trying to get his toy unstuck) and pierced his eyeball with the tip of them.  I was home at the time and standing next to my mother as she laid him on the bathroom counter and gingerly opened his eyelid as he squeezed his eyes tight shut.  Inside that eye was a watery swirl of fluid around what looked like a crinkled up piece of saran wrap.

Moments later, Travis was hustled into the car and mom drove him to the hospital-- and I was left to watch the rest of the kids at home.  Kim was babysitting another family and returned home just in time to leave for another babysitting job I was supposed to be at.  Travis was taken into surgery later that night where the shattered pieces of his eye lens was removed and the cornea stitched back up. Fortunately, the retina was not damaged.

1980

That day, years ago, seemed like such a tragedy.  My young, 12-year-old self, couldn't see how anything good could come from such a terrible accident.  That night, with mom and dad gone, I was trying to hold the kids and the household together, as well as trying to hold myself together.  Within hours of the accident, people began coming to our door bringing food.  By 9 p.m. that night the fridge was full of food.  By the next day the fridge and counters were overflowing with food.  My mom's best friend came to stay with us until my grandmother got there to spend the night.  I remember being completely overwhelmed with the kindness, concern and generosity of our neighbors, ward members, and friends.

The next year Travis ended up having a cornea transplant to remove the scar on his cornea that kept the light from coming into his eye.  Without a lens, Travis' eye has never been able to focus.  He is able to see colors and shapes and things moving from that eye. And he has lived a perfectly normal life. (He can even shoot baskets better than anyone I know -- even without the depth perception of two eyes.)

When Dr. Choi, Brendan's eye doctor, found out that Brendan had an uncle who was monocular, he said it explained why Brendan was handling the loss of his sight in his one eye so well.  It is not a tragedy when you see how well it can all turn out.

All these years later, people are still kind, thoughtful, and amazingly generous.  Food continues to be brought to feed my family when I'm not here.  So many offer to take care of kids, give rides, and help with whatever needs to be done.  All of this service reminds me of the Savior, who kindly and thoughtfully fed the 5,000.  He nourished their physical bodies so they were ready to be fed spiritually.

December 2, 2015
Brendan's Day:

I wake up watching to see how much food is left in the bag.  It is almost as good as a clock.  I watch to see when it is all used up because then the alarm goes off.  So I try to turn the machine off before it goes off and wakes up Brendan.  But I also want him to get every last calorie he can . . .

 The first signs -- hair on his pillow.

 Zoe and Brendan enjoying the sunshine.  Brendan didn't feel up to eating today.  He lost everything he ate or I put into his feeding tube.

Brendan didn't mind the long wait at Dr. Patel's office as long as he had Calvin and Hobbs to keep him entertained.

 Dr. Patel checked his vision and found that it hasn't changed since the last surgery.  So he will continue to monitor Brendan's right eye for any signs of trouble or in case neurosurgery or ENT think additional surgery will be necessary.
 Another great view from the top floor of the Moran Eye Center.

 Hmmm... you call that eating?

 We got a lot done on the puzzle today at the Huntsman Cancer Institute.

 Heading in for radiation.

 Brendan's view during radiation.  (The radiation therapists ran the cycle of the machine so Brendan could show me the different shapes he sees inside the machine.)

 I got off count somewhere -- but today was day 15 of radiation.  It was prize day.  Brendan got a lego set.

 It was also the day to meet with Dr. Poppey.  His vitals and weight all look good.

 Time for school again.

 And another book.

 Okay, maybe two books.

 Leaving Primary Children's Hospital.

 Shaun came to spend the rest of the week with Brendan while I came home for a few days to be with the other kids.  Other than nausea, Brendan is stronger and has more stamina than ever.  It's good to see the progress he has made just in the last week.  It will be a long haul from here to the end of December, when he finishes radiation.  Next Monday he will have his second round of chemo -- so we will see how he does next week.