I sucked out my girl's eyeball!
Ella had to have a false eye
Saturday 10th January 2009
Whether it's being a surrogate mum, or donating a spare kidney, it feels like you never stop reading about mothers doing amazing things for their children.And I loved my daughter, Ella, 5, so much, there was no question I'd be prepared to do anything for her. But sucking out her eyeball? That really was one hell of an ask.
It all started when I took Ella to Haine and Smith opticians for a routine check-up.
'There's a shadow behind her left eye,' the optician frowned. 'Does she have problems seeing with this side?'
'She's never mentioned anything,' I replied.
We were referred to the Great Western Hospital, Swindon, and three days later, my husband, Scott, 34, was at work, so my mum, Pauline, 64, and dad, Tony Foss, 62, came along with us for support.
I held Ella's hand as lights were shone into her eye.Then, as she disappeared into the play area, the consultant broke the bad news.
'It looks like retinoblastoma,' he said. 'A type of eye cancer.'
I just sat there, stunned.
'It might be necessary for her eye to be taken out,' he went on. 'Otherwise, the cancer could spread and kill her.'
At that point, I collapsed onto the floor in tears. And I was still in a state by the time I collected Scott from work that evening.
'They want to take out her eye,' I sobbed.
'If it saves her life, it's worth it,' he insisted.
I tried so hard to stay positive when, a week later, specialists at The Royal London Hospital confirmed there was a tumour. Ella's eye had to go.
'Your old eye's poorly,' I told her, gently stroking her blonde hair.
'So we're going to get you a new one.'
'OK,' she said, too young to understand what was happening.
It was wonderful that she wasn't scared, but that didn't stop my heart breaking when she was wheeled down to surgery the next day.
Two agonising hours later, Ella was out of surgery, still sedated, and transferred to a ward.
I spent all night staring at the bandage covering her eye. When it was taken off the next morning, I took a deep breath and braced myself for the worst. But instead of the goo and gore I'd expected, her empty eye socket had been filled with a plastic layer,
so it was just a pink hole.
'See, it's not that bad,' I said, holding up the mirror to Ella.
'It looks funny, Mummy,' she frowned. 'I want my eye back.'
'You'll get a new one soon,' I said.
She made such a quick recovery from the operation, we were allowed to take her home that day. Ella went from strength to strength, and was really excited when, the following month, we went back to the Great Western Hospital to get her new eye fitted. As the optometrist held the shiny eyeball in his hand. I was fascinated.
'It looks so realistic,' I said.
Ella thought it was brilliant too, and she sat there as the optometrist pushed it into place in her eye socket.
'You can hardly tell them apart,' I said, amazed.
But as I sat there, staring proudly at Ella's new eye, nothing could have prepared me for what came next.
'You'll need to take it out and clean it,' the optometrist said, before handing me a miniature plunger.
'It's so it doesn't get infected. Don't worry, it won't hurt her.'
The following morning, Ella was brushing her hair in her bedroom when she screamed.
'It's horrible, Mummy,' she said, staring at her reflection.
I looked at her face in the mirror.
'Oh my God,' I gasped.
Little Ella looked gorgeous as ever, apart from one thing. Her left eye was facing the wrong way.
'Help me, Mummy,' she cried.
Taking a deep breath, I grabbed the plunger.
'Lie down so I can make your eye better,' I said as I put the plunger on her eyeball. 'It won't hurt.'
I pulled hard…Suddenly, there was a loud pop. I'd sucked Ella's eye clean out of its socket.
After a quick rinse under the tap, I gently pushed it back in again.
Ella took one look in the mirror, saw it was all right and carried on brushing her hair. Talk about water off a duck's back! Thankfully, eight months on from the operation, Ella's clear of cancer and she's got used to her new eye. And I've got used to sucking it out whenever I have to give it a clean. You could say I took the plunge!
For more on retinoblastoma, contact the Childhood Eye Cancer Trust at www.chect.org.uk