A Boy, a Ball, and a Team of Doctors

Last night around eight, Paul and I were on our way to Giovanni's for a nice dinner and to discuss chapter three of When Sinners Say I Do. Then we got a phone call that changed our plans from Italian to Rushin'.

Ben, our 20 year old, was calling from Beachmont. He was hurt. A teammate's wrist had accidentally konked him in the eye in a game of Tek ball--a combination of soccer and rugby--camp director Paul Twining was concerned he might have a concussion. His pupils weren't dilating evenly. This was the very same game that Stephen got a black eye from JUST LAST WEEK at the same place; the guy he collided with ended up with four staples in his head!

So we did that switch from husband-and-wife -on-a-date mode to mom-and-dad-with-banged-up-kid mode.

An attractive staffer girl greeted us at the pool house . Ben sauntered over to us. Oh, man. He looked bad. In the moonlight the left eye looked a squished metallic silver blue golf ball. We drove him to Patient First and got seen right away. X-rays fine. Slight nausea, no vomiting, no loss of consciousness. The doctor was about to send him home and tell us to wake him every three hours during the night. Then I said, "We have a family history of retinal detachment--and Ben, tell him what you're seeing." When Ben said "horizonal lines, blurry stuff when I look all the way to the left or right, spots of black, weird spots of white," the doctor sent us to GBMC's ER. Mind you, there's an ER right across the street from Patient First, but this doctor said, "Some ERs function more efficiently than others." (What are you saying, doc? Huh? Huh?) He added that GBMC has close ties with the world renowned Wilmer Eye Institute in Baltimore in the event we needed their expertise.

GBMC saw him right away. It was 10:15 pm. First an ER doc, then a student doc, then the student's teaching doc.
It was a bit comical watching this inexperienced student try to find a seat in front of Ben that would adjust to his height yet still be short enough for her to be comfortable. Both of them had to compromise. The teaching doctor came in at 1:15 and, after an hour of poking, prodding, stretching the eyelid and shining bright magnifiers in his face, determined that Ben had a hole in the superior nasal area of his retina.

The retinal specialist would probably want to evaluate him in the morning. He sent us home, a hard plastic eye patch taped to Ben's face.

We got home at 3:30 a.m and were back at GBMC at 3:30 pm today, the 4th of July. We had the Physician's Pavilion West virtually to ourselves. Just us and a team of doctors. The same teaching doc, the student doc from last night, another student doc, the retinal specialist and one of his colleagues.

The surgeon lasered a circular area completely around the "hole and a half" in the retina to make a protective barrier. He sent Ben home with instructions to wear protective glasses, don't work for at least 2 weeks--maybe four-- no heavy lifting (I was thinking, "no heavier than a load of laundry"), no sports. Ben asked him (taking a fake swing), "How about golf?" and you could see the doctor smile as if to say, "We can't keep you down, boy, unless we straightjacket you!" No, no golf. Don't wanna risk getting re-injured. Ben left feeling defeated and wondering if he could handle "two weeks of total boredom" and how he'd pay his bills without working.

We are so, so thankful this injury wasn't worse.
We are very thankful for the compassionate care he got at Beachmont, Patient First, GBMC's ER and the retinal specialist.
We're thankful for insurance.
We're thankful it was a holiday. There was no wait anywhere!
We're thankful for our eyesight. It's a complex gift of indescribable value.
We're thankful for all the prayers of people who care.

Well now, he is okay, bored senseless and unable to even see the TV screen to enjoy a movie with his dad while the rest of us go watch the fireworks. But he has both eyes and they should be just fine within a month.