It’s Probably Nothing
For our family, December 31, 2018 is a day that will live in infamy. We were on our way home from spending some time with my wife’s family in northeast Mississippi. Our kids, eight-year-old Asher, and four-year-old Annelise, had their faces glued to their devices for much of the ten-hour drive. We had less than two hours to go when Asher broke the silence by calmly stating, “I’m seeing double.” I furrowed my brow while glancing back at him over my shoulder, though I’m not exactly sure what I was looking for. He didn’t look like he felt well, and before I could say anything, my wife suggested that he stop looking at a screen for a while, which wasn’t a bad idea, and I agreed. We brushed it off and pressed onward.
At home, we tried to cover the medical basics. We checked his temperature, and he was running a low-grade fever, no more than 100F, so we assumed this was the culprit, and the fatigue was giving him double vision. We gave him some medicine, had him lie down on his bed, and didn’t give it much more thought that day. The fever was gone by the next day.
Over the next few days, I would occasionally ask him about it. His double vision, or diplopia as they call it in the medical community, wasn’t going away. After about a week, he complained to a teacher at school, so we managed to get him in to see his primary care doctor. I also had scheduled an appointment with an ophthalmologist to get it checked out. His doctor, who is also a dear friend affectionately referred to as “Doc,” found nothing to indicate a typical cause for diplopia, and encouraged me to keep the appointment with the ophthalmologist, scheduled for January 10.
The contrasting personalities between my wife and I became apparent around this time. I tend to assume the worst, and she does not. Leah just wanted answers so we could know how to treat the problem and move on.
At the ophthalmologist appointment, the doctor checked Asher’s eyes, and found them to be clear. In fact, his vision was practically perfect. He suspected something neurological was at play and said, “I’d like to schedule him for an MRI. It could be nothing. It could be something.” He was being very objective and thorough, and I will forever be grateful for his diligence in ordering the MRI, because his diligence bought us time with our son.
On the ride home, Asher started to get worried because he could tell that I was really worried. I don’t remember everything I said, but I became teary-eyed as I was talking, and he started to get scared and cry. I pivoted and began to share with him the same gospel I had many times, that Jesus is our only hope in life and death, and that we take hold of that hope in faith and repentance. It was a short ride home, and our evening carried on quite normally, until after we had put the kids to bed. What transpired was one of the most joyful moments of my life. The lights were out in the kids’ rooms. Annelise was already asleep, but I could hear sounds coming from Asher’s room. I stuck my head over the threshold into his room, and I could hear him praying, though I couldn’t make out what he was saying. When he finished, I quietly stepped in, and asked him what he was praying about. He told me that he was praying that God would help him repent of sin. It was my inexpressible joy to kneel down beside his bed, and assure him that heard him, because He loves to save sinners. I don’t remember a lot of what was said afterward, but I recall leaving his room stunned at the power of God, and I was so excited to go downstairs, find my wife, and share what happened with her.
I wish I could tell you I hung onto that feeling for a while, but I struggled with my thoughts for the next several days. I was working on renovations in one of the rooms of our house, and as I would quietly be working, my mind would begin to imagine if Asher had some serious, life-threatening illness. A few times, I had to stop abruptly, because I was on the verge of a panic attack. I tried my best to let it go. After all, I had no idea what was going on. It was all speculative worry that I kept mostly to myself, but I told the men in my church small group that I was silently terrified.
Constantly experiencing double vision had become an annoyance to Asher, so his mother picked up some eye patches from the pharmacy, which became a hallmark of his appearance for many months.
Rocking an eye patch
On Sunday, January 13, we did a “dry run” for the medication he would take for the MRI. Asher had never had an MRI before. MRIs require the patient to be very still, and so sedative medication is often prescribed to help kids relax, or even sleep during the procedure. We tested the dose out on a Sunday afternoon to see how he would react to it. It took him nearly an hour to go to sleep. Asher was never the kind to take a nap. He stopped napping before he was two. In fact, Asher didn’t like to sleep at all. He has been a morning person since he was a baby; up before the sun, and ready to meet the day head on.
The MRI was on January 16, and despite the medication, Asher did not sleep during the Procedure. I suspect he was also a little worked up, because he was nervous about it. Leah bought him a toy which he opened while we were in the waiting room, so that he would have something to look forward to when it was over. The whole procedure lasted about forty-five minutes, and like most things in the radiology department, we didn’t get immediate results.