T drove me to the Eye Hospital first thing on Friday
morning. The nurses went through the normal admissions procedure, even though I
was a patient for a day procedure. In the room were two other patients, both in
wheelchairs; due to diabetes they had more serious eye problems and would be
taken first. After getting me to sign the consent form, which (as usual) contained a long
list of potential problems, a junior doctor drew a purple arrow on my left
forehead.
I was dilated with eye drops and we sat for a couple
of hours until a nurse arrived to escort me upstairs. I declined the wheelchair
she proffered and she pushed it along carrying just my thick purple folder of medical
notes. I’d refused the chair because I had bad memories of being wheeled in to
my four previous major operations. We took the lift to the top floor and
entered the anaesthetist’s room. My heart sank, it was just the same as in each
of my previous operations. He got me to lie on the table and put supports under
my neck and both ankles. He then fixed a clip around my left eye to hold my
lids open and squirted in local anaesthetic. It stung a little, but not too badly.
I breathed a sigh a relief. But the next step was worse. He took a syringe and
injected anaesthetic into either side of my eye. ‘It’s just like being at the
dentist,’ he joked. I felt the pressure of the needle going in, but no pain. I
lay there, trying hard to be calm, and felt my face and left nostril freezing
up.
I was wheeled in to the operating theatre. The bright
lights dazzled. Someone put a sticky apron over my face. It had an open patch
over my left eye, but all I could see was starred lights. I could hear people
talking in low voices. Then a man wearing a headset with two beaming lights
came into view. He placed a lens above my eye and looked down. I heard more
muttering and then Mr Chan spoke. ‘There are three tears in your retina, I’m going
to fix them now.’ I felt some pressure on either side of my eye for a while. Then he spoke again.‘That’s it, done.’
A patch was stuck over my left eye and a nurse helped
me off the table and into the wheelchair. Mr Chan was filling in the surgeons
report for my file. He explained that it was difficult to examine the back of
the eye fully in outpatients as it would be too painful. But under anaesthetic
he could examine my retina thoroughly. He told me that the three tears were in
different parts of my retina. He also explained that he had chosen cryoplexy (sealing
the tears by freezing with an extremely cold probe) because of where the tears were located. I might see
some white spots at the edge of my vision after this surgery or I might not. I thanked
him. It didn't seem a big price to pay, I’d had white spots in my peripheral vision since
the episode with the tree branch.
A nurse came and wheeled me back down to the day
procedure room. My eye was a little sore, but it was nothing like the after
effects of my previous big operations. I was given tomato soup; it was very
good and tasted like it had been made from fresh tomatoes. A threat to your vision is very scary. Yet another brush
with my own mortality again emphasised the everyday pleasures of life
I was told to keep the eye patch on for 24 hours
then put in antibiotic eye drops four times a day. I was also told to take it
easy for the next week; no bending, lifting or running in particular. My left is
my dominant eye, so with the patch my vision was blurred and somewhat wonky. It
was hard to judge distances, you need both eyes for that. T held my arm and escorted me down to the car
park. I was very glad of her unwavering support, not just today but for the
past six years. In the car I felt my eye getting sorer; I was looking forward to
getting home and having a nap.
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