Monday, February 20, 2012

Crazy Eyes


How's your eyeballs?

"WHY THEY'RE SUPER-DUPER AWESOME!" I say with a high-beam-voltage, night-skiing kind of stupid-ass grin. Cause there's no point telling people what's really going on. I tried that ... a couple of times. Even with my cockamamie eyeballs I could see their expression gloss over like the meringue on a well-made lemon pie. They don't CARE – they're just asking to be polite. No, seriously, they are.

But then I had someone comment on this blog who was genuinely interested in how my cataract operation fared because she had her cataracts removed and wanted to compare notes. So I'm posting this public service announcement for her sake, and for yours too because, unless you die when you're 54, like me, you're eventually going to get old and get cataracts. Because life sucks that way, in case you hadn't noticed.

The scoop on cataract surgery is thus: if you have to have surgery, pick this one. It's bloodless, it's almost entirely pain-free and it makes an immediate and major improvement in your life. Like, if you have your gall bladder removed, it makes no tangible difference in your lifestyle. You aren't thinner when the anesthetic wears off. You don't hear better. Your boobs certainly aren't bigger. All that's different is you're missing some organ that you didn't use in the first place. It's like the appendix – I have no fecking idea what it does. It's just this lumpish liverish thing that has a free ride in your abdominal cavity, sucking on your blood like some weird internal vampire, until one day it decides it's going to piss you off and hurt like the raging buttocks of Hell. Then you get it chopped out and life continues with no difference except a big fecking scar and the end of the bikini as you knew it.

I had my appendix and gall bladder out at the same time. A two for one deal. The doc promised me I would have an itty-bitty scar. When he took off the band-aid aprés surgery I had a fecking scar from boobs to bellybutton.

Cataract surgery isn't like that. Not nowadays. When my parents had theirs done a few years ago the doctor cut into the whites of their eyes and left big nasty stitches. They don't do that now. With teeny tiny knives they cut into the pupil, I think, and then chop up your lens while it's still inside your eyeball. I know, it sounds gross, but you don't feel a thing. You're all hopped up on drugs and all you can see is pretty lights. It's so psychedelic, man. Like you've just done heroin. Or maybe you have done heroin – who knows what they're shooting into your IV when you're not looking?

Once the lens is chopped up like eyeball sushi they suction it out with a teeny tiny vacuum cleaner. I think my doctor used a Hoover Windtunnel. The reason they do it that way is so they don't have to make a big cut in your eyeball. I know, brilliant, right?

When the old one is out, the eye-doc inserts a new lens that is folded up like a teeny-tiny umbrella. (Everything's teeny-tiny in Eyeball Land.) He pops it open using the magic umbrella button and it sproings into place. He doesn't even have to stitch it. It just sticks there. I don't know how – pressure, I guess. Like shower curtain rods. Or maybe Krazy Glue.

And that's it. End of operation. He sticks a clear plastic pirate shield over your eye and sends you home with a month's supply of eye drops and a pleasant leftover drug buzz that makes you sleepy, happy and dopy.

I was worried about it, I was. Because I am a big poulet. But it was no big deal. I arrived at the hospital, filled out some forms and then the nurses came and inserted an IV and drenched my eyeball with a bathtub load of drops. Some of them froze my eyeball (the drops, not the nurses), some of 'em dilated my pupil, some of them were somebody's used bathwater. Then the eye-doc wrote some graffiti on my eye with a magic marker. He was quite precise about it – said he was measuring stuff. I thought, gee, all this high-tech teeny-tiny stuff and he's writing on my eyeball with a magic marker.

A different nurse gave me one of those gobsmack ugly blue hospital hats to wear and still another one put more freezing drops in my eyes. I was worried she didn't give me enough so I grabbed her arm and hissed, "I NEED MORE." So she gave me more. Because she was afraid.

Then they wheeled me into the operating room and the anesthesiologist asked me how high I'd like to be.

"Gimme everything you got," I said.

He gave me a nice dose of IV bubbly and I was feeling like that time when I had too much rye and was laying flat on my back in an open field watching the stars spin, but then they started duct taping my forehead to the bed and propping open my eyeball with some prop-open-THING and that's when I got scared and yelled, "IT'S NOT ENOUGH."

I remember the anesthesiologist and the rest of the surgical team discussing the matter ... "she had the proper dose".... "I don't know if she really needs more or if she's just a big poulet ..." Then that's all I remember, except for the pretty lights. I think they probably gave me more because, when I had a bath the next day there was this electrocardiac sticky-thing on my back next to my ass and I don't remember anybody being that close to my ass. Despite repeated showers and baths the black mark from that sticky-thing remained. I finally had to scrub my skin raw to remove it. Since I'm having the other eyeball done tomorrow morning I didn't want the nurses to see the dirt from the sticky thing still there... they would think I'm a dirty pig.

The lights... I can't tell you enough about the lights. You do not see any of the eye-doc's tools coming toward you. For some reason, you don't see a bloody thing. Just these lights. Have you seen any of the Austin Powers movies? You know how each break in the action is marked by psychedelic backgrounds for Austin's bimbo dance moves? That's what it looks like and it's grooooovy, baby.

For a few hours after the surgery I couldn't see anything at all out of the new eyeball. Gradually my eyesight returned and I was stunned, absolutely stunned, by the clarity of my vision. The colours were off – the first couple of post-op days everything was red, like looking through cranberry glass. The next couple of days things were yellow. Two weeks later and the colours are normal but incredibly VIVID.
When you have cataracts you don't realize how badly you see things. It's like looking through a steamy window and all the colours of everything are pastel versions of themselves. When the old lens is gone the world is a bright and beautiful place.

The morning after my surgery I went outside and started bawling like a baby when the sheer breathtaking beauty of my part of the world hit me upside the head with a resounding slap. Mist was rising off the river, coating nearby trees with a sparkling patina of ice. Everything was so clear, so crystal-fecking-clear that I was dazed. I thought, how can anyone who can see this BEAUTY not want to live in this gorgeous, gorgeous world?

But I digress.

I wanted to tell you how my vision is. Well, here's the scoop: I used to be nearsighted in both eyes. Now I'm not nearsighted in the left. I can see things in the distance with stunning clarity. Only I can't see anything close up. Like my computer screen? Can't fecking see it with the new lens. Will need pop bottle bottom reading glasses to be able to see anything close up. In the meantime I am using Dave's old reading glasses, which are not my prescription but they're better than nothing, right? As for my right eye, for now it's still clouded with a cataract and it's nearsighted but is good with close-up. Dave's glasses make my right eye downright crazy. Like Steve  Buscemi as Crazy-Eyes in Adam Sandler's Mr. Deeds movie.

So, to summarize, I've got nearsighted and farsighted, cataract and non-cataract, all going on at the same time. It's all going to be fine, though. Tomorrow I get the other cataract removed and then in six weeks, when everything's healed up, I'll go to the optometrist and get fitted for new glasses. In the meantime, I'll get some reading glasses from the drug store to get me through the next month or so at work.

Oh, and I've figured out why I had the stupid cataracts so early in my life. I've been taking Solumedrol, a type of steroid, every two months for several years to combat my Crohn's disease. Apparently steroids speed cataract growth. That's the thing about drugs – they help you but they never come without risk. My son asked me today about medication for acne. I told him to wash his face more often before thinking about medication because you never know how it might affect you in the future. Besides, he's only got a few zits. Nothing a bit of soap can't handle.

(C'mere, baby, I'll pop 'em for ya. Nothing Mama likes better than popping a few juicy zits.)

***

Just a quick shout-out to some folks who have been having a rough go of it lately. To Mark and his family, and to Tammy and Richard and theirs, I send all my love, hugs and wishes. You are in my thoughts, my dearest, dearest friends.

42 comments:

  1. My husband will be happy to hear how your surgery went....he has a cataract ripening and can't wait for it to be fixed. I have to do most of the driving so you can imagine how anxious he is.
    Glad it worked so well for you...hip hip hooray for the next one.

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    1. Hey Delores, if he can't drive tell the eye doc – that's the main reason for hurrying the operation along. And there's no point waiting. Get 'er done! He won't regret it. Easiest thing in the world!

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  2. Do they really ask you how high you want to be? How of the entire post, this is what I hear right? That would almost be worth the operation. For some reason you had me reading with bated breath while I freaked out every other line. Ah well. I suppose it does happen to the best of us and I also will have to have it done, but I sure as heck am not looking forward to it -- even if I do get free drugs.

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    1. They do, Rubye! The docs don't want to put you out completely for the surgery but patients all have different ideas about how much is too much. Some people just want a bit to take the edge off. Some don't want any at all. Some, like me, want EVERYTHING.

      Don't stress about the operation. Seriously. I have delivered two babies, I've had appendix/gallbladder surgery, I've had my tonsils out and a hernia repaired and none of those things were even CLOSE to being as easy as cataracts.

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  3. Your outcome is just as cool as my mom's. The very first words out of her mouth: she could see colors again. Then she bought a 20 count needle point kit. The one you need a magnifying glass for. Somebody got that for Christmas. She was in her seventies and came off the second cataract removal with 20/20 vision. The eye doc has been following my cataracts for 20 years. Not time yet. And I'm nearly the age she was when she lost hers. No way to hurry mine, I guess. Glad you so pleased and like Delores said, hip hip for the next one.

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    1. Just tell the docs you can't drive. Why wait for something that will so dramatically improve your world? And I'm thrilled to hear your mom's improved so much. We are so lucky to live in a time when medical science does such wonderful things. In the bad old days we all would have gone blind.

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  4. Well you've set me at ease. Just a little tiny bit, but better!

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  5. I hope I don't ever need cataract surgery, but if I do, it's good to know it's not all that bad!

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    1. Honestly Sherry, if I can, anyone can. *big poulet here*

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  6. I am at an age where friend after friend is having cataract surgery, and all have had good results. My uncle, in fact, one of the first I knew of, wore bottle thick glasses all his life and now needs none at all. It's nice when things work as they're supposed to work, isn't it?

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    1. That's the amazing part, Susan, is not having to wear distance lenses anymore. Completely liberating!

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  7. That's really interesting, thank you for that! Our experiences are similar. I was amazed at how easy it was, too - I had been expecting it to be an ordeal, but it wasn't at all. I could see as soon as the surgeon removed the dressing and I was gobsmacked at how clear everything was, and how bright the colours! I couldn't stop exclaiming and marvelling at everything on the drive home.

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    1. I know, Judith! Isn't it amazing? It really makes you appreciate how gorgeous the world really is... and how badly I need to dust the furniture and wash the floor...

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  8. I'm such a bog sissy I couldn't even read the descriptive part of the surgery. I've had my eyes dilated ONCE. Period. I pass out when the Doc puts those little drops in my eyes. I will have to simply go blind if the fates demand it, or they can do the surgery with me fast fast asleep. Because I will just pass out anyway--on the other hand, YAY CATHY! YOU CAN SEE!!!! :)

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    1. Lisa, what on earth is a bog sissy? Are you afraid of swamps?

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  9. My mama had her cararacts removed and, like you, couldn't believe how vivid everything was.
    Good luck tomorrow - sending you many good wishes from afar.

    PS: Someone once told me (and it makes sense) there are no side effects. They are all effect, you just want some of them more than the others. Soap for the acne should work. Fingers crossed for him too.

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    1. Good point on the effects, EC. Thanks so much for your good wishes!

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  10. Cathy - I'm so pleased you're getting towards the end of your cataract odyssey - this post had me in fits thinking about you grabbing the arm of the anaesthetist and hissing "it's not enough!!!" :-D

    As you know - we're having eye probs at my end, too. Dasly, after four operations for her detached retina my daughter has worse vision than before they started! :-/ From listening to the problems she has judging distance/focus I can understand your frustration at the disparity in your unequal vision !
    Anyway - at least I am less worried about the possible future need of a cataract op for myself - I'll just be imagining you grabbing that guy's arm! ;-p

    (Oh, and the lights, baby!!(

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    1. (for 'Dasly' read 'Sadly' - I can't spell this morning.....)

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    2. I feel so sorry for your daughter, I really do. The poor, poor girl. A detached retina is so much more serious than a simple cataract. I am glad, however, that her name isn't Dasly because that's what I thought when I first read your comment!!!!!! heheheheheheheh

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  11. Did someone say "poulet"!?!?!?!

    The idea of surgery on the eyeball makes my furs stand on end! I'm glad you an see betterer now. My Mommeh has one pair of glasses to see far and one she wears for her computer, on account of she could not get used to her "progressive" lens glasses.

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  12. I wondered if they still used the plastic shield thing. Imgaine trying to keep that on a 10 month old. I can't wait to hear how great everything looks one you have both eyes done. Good luck today. Hugs from the Rock.

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  13. You have me almost wishing I had cataracts. My mother didn't describe her cataract surgery like this at all.

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    1. Jeannie, I have nearsighted friends who are wishing for cataracts because the surgery is a heckuva lot cheaper than laser corrective surgery. (For me the surgery itself is free – THANK YOU CANADA – but I had to pay for the actual lenses. If you have laser surgery to correct your vision, you pay for the whole enchilada, which could amount to thousands.

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  14. Lordamercy, this post had me howling. And I apologize for laughing, but your writing is soooo funny. Thank you. I don't think anyone has ever explained and described cataract surgery this way.

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  15. She makes it al'most sound like FUN.. doesn't she?

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  16. eyes
    my weak spot as a nurse........I just CANNOT do ANYTHING with patient's eyes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! nada!!!!!!!!!

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    1. Geez, I'd rather deal with eyes than some other parts of the anatomy...

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  17. So right about now you're either under the Hoover, recovering, or in tears again over the beauty of it all. Ain't life grand! Thanks for leveling some of your crazy gaze over my way yesterday - much appreciated. Can't wait till you're seeing straight again, young lady.

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    1. Recovering! Wiping goo out of my eye! Feeling happy it's over. Thanks, Mark!

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  18. It sounds like you need to rest your eyes. Take care of yourself, Cathy. How'd you write this long a blog post if you can't see anything as close as a computer screen?

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  19. This post was beauty, eh?

    :-)

    I'm glad it was painless. I'm sorry your boobs aren't any bigger though. :-) (I don't know what that means, I just enjoyed your mentioning it.)

    Here's to eyesight, huh?!

    Pearl

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  20. I've already commented but I just have to tell you that the 8 weeks I waited between ops was a real pain! With one eye seeing perfectly and the other eye severely myopic and cataract cloudy, my poor scrambled brain sometimes got the messages wrong. My depth perception went all to hell and I scraped my car THREE TIMES in exactly the same place by misjudging the angle when backing into the garage. Ya gotta laugh.

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  21. Only you Cathy could make an entertaining post out of eye surgery ^__^ I am glad it went well for you and I hope it doesn't reoccur. Now you'll be able to see my sparkly glitter so much better ^___^:*´¨`*:.☆ ☆。★。☆。:*´¨`*:.☆:*´¨`*:.☆

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  22. I am so glad to hear that everything went better than you expected and the results are great. I can barely look at that psychedelic thingy on top of your post and my eyes are fine - I hate to think what it is doing to your mismatched eyes.

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  23. By now you are recovered from the second job and will have all the distance you can wish for. I've had my share of eye surgeries and blogged (Sight Aug.10.2010) their out come. May 26.2011 Blur post tells the more recent event but even as I type this I wear 2 sets of specs.Still I agree the op is a breeze and the outcome better than imaginable. But never take your eyesight for granted. By the way they cut the cornea, flip it up so they can get to the lens and flap it back over the sight and give a teeny weeny stitch to the bottom. That holds all in place. I've had laser eye surgery to reattach the retina on both eyes over a period of time.
    Yup non of the other surgeries compare to eyes. I've had many too. My tummy is a road map of scars!

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