On Cheering Up A Depressed Orbit

When they stole Dave's handkerchief from me in the hospital in Rome, I had no idea it was a sign. After the accident, he gave it to me and told me to apply pressure over my eye; but even in my confusion I knew the proper use of a handkerchief and used it to blow my bloody nose.

Since we got home last Tuesday, I've had a Herceptin treatment, chased with a visit to our ENT to check on said bloody nose, then a visit to my dentist for an X-Ray to see if my top front teeth were ok even though I can't quite bite quite yet, followed up with a visit to an oral/facial surgeon to take Star Trek pics to determine the status of my face since Rome wouldn't give us any of the many pics they took, then back to the ENT to get my stitches (and it felt like, my eyelid) removed, followed up with a CAT scan to verify that the structure supporting my right eye is sound, and lastly, up to this point at least, a visit to an opthamologist for further examination, and some explanation on how to cope with a depressed eye socket. I apologize for that crazy run-on sentence, but my life this past week and a half has been a run-on sentence. A run-on sentence with jet lag, and a big head, from all medical paparazzi snapping pictures of it left and right.

The consensus of the docs and pics of the orbit floor of my right eye is that it was not a blow-out fracture, which we were worried about, since the orbit floor is a tissue thin bone which supports the eyeball and keeps it from falling into the sinus cavity. My overactive imagination was in a state of panic over the thought of blowing my eyeball out my nose. Instead, thankfully, while the orbit floor is broken, it's still intact though depressed. So no immediate surgery to repair the floor. Thank God.

It seems like we are to just keep the old proverbial and quite literal eye on things, let things heal, don't blow my nose, and call if I experience any double vision (which could be signs of my eye muscles getting snagged on some of the bone fragments from the break). Other than that, I have been the green light to swing my racket at those little green balls. Which, one would think, would cheer up a depressed orbit. At least in my world.

Yes, I can play tennis; and no, I'm not supposed to blow my nose. I do not know when I will get the green light for that again, depending on how things have healed when I see the ENT and oral/facial surgeon for follow-ups in a few weeks.

Thank you for your continued prayers. I am so grateful, humbled, and obviously find them quite necessary to my life, as I've just blown threw a couple this past year alone. By my count, I should have about 6 lives left, but between the chemo and hitting my head recently, I don't really trust my math. All I figure I can do, is trust God, and wrap myself up in the prayers of family and friends, and keep living and loving and laughing hard.

So cheers, to your health, all who pray for my health, and ciao to you, and also to blowing my nose, not to mention, Dave's hankie.