All fingers and toes are crossed for the best of luck to you (both) Vic!
I haven't posted on the Feeling.Thoughts/Dreams thread yet. I've been meaning to...so here I go:
My father is 60 years old. Former UIC lineback, Marine, and a cop. There was a long time where Poppa was one tough sonuvagun. 1989, Poppa had a heart attack that nearly killed him; a lifetime of hard work and ill health habits left him with barely 3/4 of his heart working. Basically, the doctors sent him home to die. That was what, 13-some odd years ago.
There's a running joke in my family that Death would have to bring a 12-gauge if he's planning on picking Dad up anytime soon.
In recent years, Poppa's suffered a myriad of health problems but managed to survive around every one. Diabetes, glaucoma among the long-term afflictions. 2001, Poppa was officially blind. He described his sight as looking through a glass of milk. Last summer, he went for surgery to correct some scar tissue and cataracts. The light stopped abruptly. He then could not see at all. I was devastated.
So, like the trooper he always has been, he went to different specialists to see if he could at least see light again. Not having even a little light coming in was affecting him physically; not to mention emotionally. Finally a specialist ordered a different sort of surgery, and gave him a steroid to encourage tissue to regrow. A long miserable process, from what I understand. Poppa said the steroid dropping in his eye felt much like dropping gasoline in there. Sharply painful, so he had stopped using it. As a family, we had come to accept that Poppa could no longer see. But he could at least see light as he could before. Nothing lost, nothing gained.
Yesterday I went to read him his newspaper. Walked in the same door I always do, hung my keys on the same hook I always do when I visit. Dad walked right up to me.
He asked when I colored my hair. He could see the color.
I cry.