Under the knife: Part 2

When ella was only a few months old, we noticed that her left eye always appeared tearful. It would get goopy in the morning and bother her all day, especially in the cold. Her pediatrician referred us to a specialist for this issue, which is evidently quite common. It's a symptom of an underdeveloped or clogged tear duct, which a small percentage of children outgrow. When the specialist said the words "wire probe" and "anesthesia," my knees buckled. We decided to wait and see if maybe she'd be in that small percentage.

Fast forward to age 4. There is a chapped area under Ella's eye because her winter colds cause natural congestion...and while most kids are wiping their noses, she's wiping her eye. Finally she asked, "Mommy, people always think I'm crying. Can we PLEASE get my eye fixed?"

I realized it was time for us to get rid of the fear and just go do it. We had a second meeting with the specialist in March, and the procedure was scheduled for May 5. Derek's parents kept Carson for us, so Derek and I could take her in at 6:00am. Here's what she looked like after donning her lovely surgical gown:


Then after the shot of tylenol and Versed, a sedative: ("Mommy...why do you...have four eyes? What are all those floaty...things...in...the air?")


Then they wheeled her away. I smiled and waved to her, then promptly grabbed Derek and raced to the double exit doors. We crashed through them, and I buried my sobbing face in his chest. There is nothing—NOTHING—more heartbreaking than watching Strangers In Uniform wheel your firstborn child away when she's out of her mind, and they are armed with very sharp objects. There's something maternal that kicks in...a blend of worry and warrior.

Over the next 40 minutes she was under gas and a breathing tube as they they probed the tear ducts in her upper and lower eyelids, then fed a small tube into her upper eyelid and into her nasal cavity, where a small angio balloon filled with liquid and eight pounds of pressure to open the passage where tears drain.

S stands for "surgical site" to mark the correct eye.

She came out groggy and more aggravated than I have ever seen her. I can't say I blame her. We all spent a quiet day at home with the company of her sweet grandparents. As of today, she is back on her feet again. We should all remember to be thankful for the thousands of systems in our body, as small and seemingly insignificant as this one, that work just as they should. I know one little girl who very thankful, indeed.