If we were having coffee

We'd be on our third cup of coffee by now. Or I would. And you would have patiently listened to me trying to catch you up on the surgeries, the upcoming birth, the rain here, Winston's mental state and my expanding shallow knowledge.
We had the second eye surgery. As you will recall the first one failed because of bad donor cornea cell tissue. The second one took. And reminded me how splendid it is to be in the presence and the recipient of superb nursing care and physician skill.
We continue putting the patch on at night and four drops of eye medicine daily. But, so far, so good.
Ken had an epidural last Friday. Basically, that means a shot in the dura of his spine to calm and numb frayed nerves in his lower back. More up and down with that. But it takes two weeks to know if this has worked.
Amanda will most likely deliver Grace by C-section because of a rather indelicate complication. Look up perianal fistula. She has one. It became abcessed. Had to be drained and now the dressing changed daily and she'll need surgery after Grace is born. (I'm pretty sure they will name this child Grace, but lately Chloe and Charlotte have been spoken as possibilities.) Amanda is doing well but the doctors are probably going to err on the side of caution and forego any possibility of tearing,e tc. w/ a C-section.
It has rained here for what seems like 3 months. At least for two weekends in a row. I am most grateful for rain. I need to be. We live in a desert and we are in a drought. But I feel like I've moved to Seattle. It's March. We here in Phoenix are use to blue skies, endless sunny skies and watering grass, plants and flowers as if we lived in Seattle. So, I feel guilty whining about rain. Other evolved souls here squeal in delight at the rain. I don't, but I try not to sulk either.
Lucas, Melissa and Melissa's brother Jeremy arrive tomorrow for Jeremy's spring break. We will show him Sedona, hopefully sunshine and the weather about which I am unduly proud and fine Mexican food. At 6 we will move from sipping coffee to sipping wine.
Life is good.
Forgive me for the absence. Since I follow four other bloggers fairly religiously I know that I get a little irked when they take more than two weeks off.
And as we are leaving the little coffee shop, I will mention in passing my addictions to The Wire. It's like crack. I have to rent only a few DVDs at a time. And The Good Wife. It's the one show I won't quit watching to talk to my children unless of course it was an emergency.
And I'd say get Abide With Me. It's by the author of Olive Kittridge. Then we could talk about it.

Back on the Jet Plane

Chuck is headed back to Columbus. He's leaving on a jet plane. He came out here to help us through Ken's eye surgery.
He has done that.
Since he's been here we've:
Consumed 12 gallons of fresh squooze orange and grapefruit juice.
Realized you can use a golf club to shake citrus from the trees.
Developed a fondness for Progresso soup, especially Tomato Basil. (He brought 6 cans with him.)
Redeveloped an appetite for candy, popcorn, thriftstore shopping.
Increased our already large book selection by 20 more books Chuck is leaving behind.
Been to our first Saturday's farmers' market where we were fortunate enough to have only $20 cash on hand.
Become hooked on The Wire.
Watched the finals of two stockcar races and found the drivers very cute.
Introduced Chuck to Tess and the Golden Greek.
Discovered Chuck is no fan of sauteed kale.
Celebrated that Ken can now indeed see from his left eye, declaring the second surgery a complete success.

Dr. Bob

I have shallow knowledge about many things, but not about hospitals, nursing care and post-op care. All of which we experienced yesterday.
Here's the update.
Ken's second eye surgery to replace the bad corneal pumper cell donated tissue with a fresh new one went splendidly. This morning when we saw Dr. Bob (the affectionate name for the eye surgeon who is now our hero) Ken could read not just the big E on the chart but the second line too. (When we went for the post-op check the morning after this same surgery in November he could make out the nurse's three fingers having failed to see the big E let alone the line of letters underneath it.)
We left with three bottles of eyedrops, detailed instructions along with a dose chart (something not given by the other doctor the first time around) and Dr. Bob's cell phone number. (Certainly not anything I was given the first time. Although, in fairness, I didn't ask how I would get hold of the doctor over the weekend if something happened. Dr. Bob offered his cell phone and said please don't hesitate to call me. I know.)
Yesterday, the nurses were arguing over helping Ken through his pre-op stuff because they loved working with Dr. Bob and his gas guy, Dr. Peter. They had each had these two men do surgeries on them. They would have no other. Now, neither would we.
In the midst of this is Chuck. He got up at 5 after flying here yesterday and being stuck on the tarmak in Columbus and Memphis for de-icing. He waited with me until 11 a.m., with a break at Matt's Big Breakfast and a plate of their incredible organic thick-cut bacon and sourdough bread, for Ken to be transported back home.
When I got home, there was a tablecloth he had brought from Columbus (Mexican theme) on the dining room table. Candles lit, a cheese plate ready and a salad ready for tossing. We had leftover chili and cookies for dessert, something Chuck had brought with him.
We are on the mend here in Phoenix.

Chuck's arrival

For the second time in 10 years, my college roommate, matron of honor and dearest friend Margot is sending us Chuck.
Her husband is coming to help us navigate the second eye surgery. The first one didn't work. It appears that the donor pumper cell tissue was bad. So, Ken has been blind out of his left eye since before Thanksgiving as we've sorted out our next step.
The next step is Dr. Bullington who will lay a new layer of donated pumper cell tissue on Ken's
cornea, place a bubble over this new tissue to hold it in place, stitch things up and send Ken home. There he will spend the next 24 hours mostly on his back looking at the ceiling while Chuck cooks us luscious meals and brings his usual energy, crazy jokes and unbridled excitement over weird caps, thrift store finds and most anything he finds on the produce aisle.
The last time he came Ken had developed spinal meningitis right after fracturing his ankle. So, he was tethered to an IV pole for high powered antiobiotics and bound in a wheelchair. That time Chuck bought material to make a tablecloth, new napkins and made us chicken salad with fruit, his sweet potato fries and all kinds of calorie-laden desserts. Ken recovered, lost the IV and eventually the wheelchair but never the weight.
It was during this trip that Chuck discovered the Mormon thrift store. We'll go there this weekend after Ken's done lying on his back staring at the ceiling and hoping that this time the tissue transplant takes.
Thank you, Margot.

Post Thanksgiving

Pumper Cells Part II

It appears scraping the back of the cornea and then wallpapering it with new cornea cells is a bit painful. But the patient is doing well despite discomfort and having to keep his head back and his eye focused on the ceiling above for 15 minutes four times a day.
The surgeon declared his handiwork successful and Ken's recovery on track.
I was a bit alarmed when he couldn't see the very big E on a cursory eye check yesterday morning, but he could tell that a hand was being held up in his line of vision if not the number of fingers.
Not a surprise since there's an air bubble in his eye placed there to hold the new layer of cells in place until they adhere to the cornea and voila, sight is resumed. Or so my understanding of this procedure goes.
We'll lay low this weekend waiting for the air bubble to dissapate and sight to resume and our fragile routine to return.

Pumper cells

We have another surgery today. We meaning Ken.
This time it's the eye. And here's where my shallow knowledge could be a problem. I'll try to confine this to my dim understanding of what's happening.
It appears that his optical pumper cells (who knew) have aged and those remaining can't adequately pump. The result is dim vision that means he has to squint to see. He got Kindle. The e-reader lets you enlarge type and it's his most favorite possession. He's gone through three. But now, even with his good eye, it means he has to squint to read.
Today, he will not only have a small cataract removed, because why you are there why not, but he will also have a kind of re-wallpapering of the lining of his cornea with healthy donor pumper cells. The procedure takes up to four hours. And it's a 1 in 10 chance it will all go well and he'll be reading his Kindle squintless next week at this time. I take him at noon and I'm gathering we'll be home in time for the semi-final rounds of Dancing with the Stars. (Ken called to vote for Kelly last night.)
Tomorrow, we return to the doctors to check the stitches and within the next few days we'll know if the surgery was a success.