Waiting Seems Like Forever

Disappointed. I guess that is, or at least was, the best word to describe my neuro ophthalmologist appointment on Friday. Although things were not a complete shock, per say. I have been through enough vision changes over the year to notice differences–even the small ones. The past week before my appointment, I was having some blur in my left eye, not a cataract style…although I do have a time with dry eyes. This is the darkened blur at the top of the eye, as if you were looking upward. It was like this before surgery. It is not constant, yet, but it does affect my lip-reading at times. With my right eye still so grey vision, I think I depend on the left still more than I realize, which could be a factor–like stress–to the eye, but I had also restarted getting bad headaches on the left side of my head, once making my eye pound like a heartbeat, and I knew something was not the same.

At the appointment, the usual questions were asked and I always give a full update, in full detail. I probably talk too much. As I tried to read the letters on the mirror, reflecting from the opposite wall, my right eye got “E.” And “HB.” Since I couldn’t get past that on good guess, we switched to lines: horizontal, vertical and diagonal… all different widths, but I could distinguish them–minus the fact I would say “vertical” even though I knew it was horizontal. The assistant finally had me utilize sign and show in hand motions what direction I saw on the screen. How embarrassing! 🙂 My left eye read down to where there are four or five letters in the row. I have never been much farther than there anyway, so I was pleased (even though I squinted).

Because the past few appointments have focused heavily on my right eye, I wasn’t thinking much besides trying to keep my left eye open, as my doctor shined his bright light and special looking-glass in my eye for a longer time than the usual. Lip reading in green as my eyes adjusted, all I got was that he wanted me to wait another six weeks, if I could, before getting new glasses. I felt disappointed, like healing takes forever…and my body keeps changing regardless. My doctor desires the wait, because my left optic nerve is more swollen, yet my vision has improved; my right optic nerve has improved since surgery, but the vision has not. I don’t understand my eyes, but I see wisdom in my doctor’s advice to wait–there is always hope that there could more healing, with a balance of optic nerves and vision improvement.

And I know there could be other changes, with no improvement. I have no control of either. It is where faith and hope intertwine, even in pain and suffering. There are days of longing, for healing. Waiting for that day may seem like forever, yet, I have been given one life to live; Jesus came so that I could have life to the full (John 10:10).

In Christ Alone 

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone, who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save
‘Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt of life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life’s first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
‘til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand

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