I've heard nothing from Lancaster or Manchester univerisities about my applications. I actually just got everything squared away with Manchester, so I'm not surprised. And I don't care if I do hear from them. I'm not that keen on the program there. Though if they offer me admission and money, I will give them sincere consideration. I did get an email from Dr. Jotischky (man, hope I spelt that right) letting me know my file had been given to a couple of potential advisors and he would get back to me shortly. That was about two weeks ago. I'm trying not to fret. Like I think I mentioned before, even if I get accepted, I still have to wait and find out if I'll get any funding.
But I want so badly to live in England. I've wanted it for some time now, and staying there over the summer just reinforced it. Steve's not keen, though. We had talked about leaving Florida, and I remind him of that when he laments leaving behind the life we've built here. Of course, Steve's right when he says there's a huge difference between packing up a Penske truck and moving to another state and relocating to England. I'm just so desperate to move there that I'm willing to deal with the brutal logistics.
Steve's being supportive. If I get offers from any of the schools, we'll move. He recognizes what an incredible opportunity it would be for me to study in England. I'm an English historian, for Pete's sake! While U.S. universities have British history programs, none offer me what English schools can. Steve sees that and is willing to uproot his life for me.
But what if I don't get offers? I dream of living in England. If I don't get accepted in a postgraduate program there, I honestly don't know what I'll do. So I try not to think about it and keep hoping for the best.
Prayers, good thoughts, and crossed fingers are greatly appreciated.
28 January 2010
Eye update
It's been about a week-and-a-half since Steve injured his eye. The doctor declared his retina healed (no more swelling or bleeding), and gave him the all-clear to return to sports. The doc did suggest protective eye gear and I'm very happy Steve followed his advice. He bought a pair of safety glasses designed for raquetball/squash players. They should do the trick, should Steve kick any more balls into his face. Despite all the good news, however, Steve's vision has not improved. His pupil remains dilated, he still has the blank spot in the bottom half of his vision, and he doesn't see as clearly as he used to. The doc says it's a waiting game. Maybe Steve's vision will improve. Maybe it won't. Steve's worried most about the blurriness. His left eye compensates, but is he making its vision weaker as a result? Hopefully the doc will have answers when Steve calls today.
19 January 2010
Keeping his eye on the ball
It's amazing how something so quick can have such lasting effects. It was the last few minutes of Steve's soccer game. His team was up 3-2 after coming from 2-0 at the end of the first half. Steve was playing defense. The other team was crowding the goal, trying ferociously to tie the game. Steve got the ball and attempted to clear the goal. He kicked it - hard. He was trying to launch it to the other end of the pitch. But the team's fast runner swooped in from nowhere and was less than two feet in front of Steve as the ball flew. The ball hit the guy in the chest and bounced backward - right into Steve's face. Steve tumbled backward.
Play continued, but I wasn't paying attention. I watched Steve as he rolled up onto his hands and knees. When he slammed his fist on the ground, I knew something was very wrong. I thought he had injured his foot or ankle in the tumble. He crawled to safety on the sidelines. I quickly joined him and asked what was wrong. The ball had hit him square in the eye.
After getting back to the chairs, he washed out his eye. A small bruise, about the size of a dime, already formed at the side of his upper lid. We joked about his pending black eye. Then Steve said part of his vision was blurry . . . and part of it was gone. That statement sent chills down my back. Gone? He was blinded?!
As Steve removed his cleats and put on his trainers, we tried to figure out what to do. He didn't want to bother going to a doctor. It was a Sunday and spending hours in an ER did not appeal. He'd go Monday. As he talked, I noticed how dark his eye was. I thought he had blown a pupil. "Look at me," I instructed. As he did so, my blood ran cold. Steve's eyes are a lovely bright blue. Normally, anyway. His left eye was not blue. Imagine a clock face on the iris. From about 11 to 1, his eye was blue. From 9 to 11 and 1 to about 2, it was lavender. The rest of it was red.
No vision. Bloody iris. We went to the ER. Steve was moved almost immediately to a room, but we were still stuck for four-and-a-half hours in the hospital. He developed a headache so bad that he actually asked for painkillers. Steve, the man who won't touch aspirin, was asking for narcotics. I knew it had to be bad.
The blunt force trauma from the ball strike had ruptured a blood vessel. The pressure in his eyeball was dangerously high, and we weren't allowed to leave until the medicine had brought it down some. He was given three different types of eye drops and instructions to make an appointment with the ophthalmologist first thing in the morning. We got home after midnight - exhausted and starving. I collapsed in bed, unable to keep my eyes open after the long drive home. Steve showered and spent the night on the couch. He had to sleep sitting up, so the blood in his eye could drain away from his iris.
We went to the ophthalmologist the next morning. The official diagnosis: A contusion injury to his retina. The bruising and swelling was causing his partial blindness in that eye. Hopefully, as the eye heals, his sight will return. The risk of retinal detachment is small, but still present. So Steve's been instructed to rest. He needs to keep his blood pressure down, so his risk of detachment doesn't increase.
It's now Tuesday. Steve's injury occurred Sunday. Although his vision has not improved, the exterior swelling is diminishing. Steve's also going stir crazy. Sitting still against his will has never been Steve's forte. And he's not allowed to do anything strenuous. So it's going to be a long day.
From Steve's initial kick to the injury took about a second. It's amazing how quickly your life can change.
Play continued, but I wasn't paying attention. I watched Steve as he rolled up onto his hands and knees. When he slammed his fist on the ground, I knew something was very wrong. I thought he had injured his foot or ankle in the tumble. He crawled to safety on the sidelines. I quickly joined him and asked what was wrong. The ball had hit him square in the eye.
After getting back to the chairs, he washed out his eye. A small bruise, about the size of a dime, already formed at the side of his upper lid. We joked about his pending black eye. Then Steve said part of his vision was blurry . . . and part of it was gone. That statement sent chills down my back. Gone? He was blinded?!
As Steve removed his cleats and put on his trainers, we tried to figure out what to do. He didn't want to bother going to a doctor. It was a Sunday and spending hours in an ER did not appeal. He'd go Monday. As he talked, I noticed how dark his eye was. I thought he had blown a pupil. "Look at me," I instructed. As he did so, my blood ran cold. Steve's eyes are a lovely bright blue. Normally, anyway. His left eye was not blue. Imagine a clock face on the iris. From about 11 to 1, his eye was blue. From 9 to 11 and 1 to about 2, it was lavender. The rest of it was red.
No vision. Bloody iris. We went to the ER. Steve was moved almost immediately to a room, but we were still stuck for four-and-a-half hours in the hospital. He developed a headache so bad that he actually asked for painkillers. Steve, the man who won't touch aspirin, was asking for narcotics. I knew it had to be bad.
The blunt force trauma from the ball strike had ruptured a blood vessel. The pressure in his eyeball was dangerously high, and we weren't allowed to leave until the medicine had brought it down some. He was given three different types of eye drops and instructions to make an appointment with the ophthalmologist first thing in the morning. We got home after midnight - exhausted and starving. I collapsed in bed, unable to keep my eyes open after the long drive home. Steve showered and spent the night on the couch. He had to sleep sitting up, so the blood in his eye could drain away from his iris.
We went to the ophthalmologist the next morning. The official diagnosis: A contusion injury to his retina. The bruising and swelling was causing his partial blindness in that eye. Hopefully, as the eye heals, his sight will return. The risk of retinal detachment is small, but still present. So Steve's been instructed to rest. He needs to keep his blood pressure down, so his risk of detachment doesn't increase.
It's now Tuesday. Steve's injury occurred Sunday. Although his vision has not improved, the exterior swelling is diminishing. Steve's also going stir crazy. Sitting still against his will has never been Steve's forte. And he's not allowed to do anything strenuous. So it's going to be a long day.
From Steve's initial kick to the injury took about a second. It's amazing how quickly your life can change.
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