Eye troubles

About a week os so ago my father got Endophthalmitis. It is an infection IN the eye. He could have easily lost his eye. The first 24 hours were crucial. Eyedrops and antibiotics every hour, continued for 24 hours. Then more of the same after visiting the doctor for an update. Surgery was always an option.

Saving the eye was the key here. Worry about the vision later. Save the eye.

Its been a week of praying, meds, doctor visits . . . crazy. Props go to my sister who has been taking them everywhere for the last week and making sure all was going well.

So I enter into the picture. According to mom, dad is is better spirits now. He seems to be grateful that I am here.

Dad lately gives me these hugs that I can only interpret as "this may be the last hug" hug. I understand. I do.

I hate it.

I do.

As I've mentioned before, their mortality reflects on my mortality which drives me crazy. Never been a fan of death. Not even when young. The finality of it all would hit me, heart rate would go up, and I'd have to walk around the house in the middle of the night to calm down or get it out of my mind.

Anyway, we went to the doctor today. As we are driving, mom is wondering why I'm not using the GPS in my phone.

"Where's your british girl?"

The accent on my GPS is a female that I can only describe as a Marilyn Monroe type.

"I know where I'm going"

OK, first the news. Dad is doing fine, everything seems to be working out. The infection is coming down. He still "sees" floaties in his eyes ... like submarines, he calls them ... but much better. Now the meds come down to every three hours.

His left eye has compensated to the point that he can actually see better out of that eye. His right eye, is improving.

Smiles all around.

Today's funny comes courtesy of dad, who manages to see very little.

On our way to the next stop, some eye glass place, mom thought we were lost. "Marilyn" was taking us, she knew.

Mom starts the funny: "This doesn't seem right"

Me, "What do you mean?"

Mom, "I don't remember this"

Dad, "Yes, this is right, it looks right"

Picture dad, in the back seat, eyes closed, when he says that.

Its a regular sitcom around here.

Its hard to adjust to coming every so often to take care or visit or hang out or go shopping, to what my sister does ... every day. She's quite the saint for that in my eyes.

This one's for you sis.

Enjoy your time off.

Love ya.