December 2, 2015
This post should have been put up long ago, but here we are. I had my cataract surgery on January 15th of 2015. It was the same parking garage, same building, same waiting room, same nervous feeling as I walked in for my cataract surgery. I knew this time around would be much different than my other prior surgeries; the surgery itself was only expected to last about ten minutes. That's just a mere fraction of the time it took for the prior two.
I sat hooked up to an IV again, waiting to be rolled into the OR.
By the time I was feeling the local anesthesia wear off, the doctor was finishing the surgery. I had no concept of time during the other two surgeries, but being under much less anesthesia this time, I was much more aware of time. I was getting a little claustrophobic at the very end (having the drape over my face while they were operating on my eye), since the anesthesia was almost gone and I wasn't as relaxed (that stuff really makes you relax!). But the doctor finished up and I was heading into recovery.
I was pretty much awake and ready to leave when I got into the recovery area. They gave me some water, and some instruction for post-op. My eye felt a little scratchy and irritated, but NOTHING compared to the other surgeries. It was a little red, but I could actually see out of my eye! The lens was so much more clear!
By the next day, it felt like nothing happened. My eye was still dilated so I could see the lens wiggle a little when my eyes moved, and see the curve of it in certain light, but that diminished for the most part once the dilation when down. I needed to wait three months before I could go in to have the second cataract taken out, which would only involve a laser, not nearly as intense as the one that was used to seal the holes from the lattice.
I had the usual post-op appointment the next morning, and then a couple times following that, and it was as if nothing had happened by the end of the first week - except that I could see much better!
One cataract down, one to go!
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Counting Down to an Implant
January 11, 2015
Posts are few and far between now, but when there's not much going on (thankfully!), I don't have much to comment on!
It's hard to believe that it's been over two years since this whole ordeal began. So much has happened, changed. Luckily my retina has remained stable since my vitrectomy, and I'm moving in the direction of feeling as though this issue is almost truly behind me.
On January 15, 2015, I'll undergo my first cataract surgery, at the age of 27. My primary care doctor joked that I was the youngest cataract patient to come through the office for a pre-op exam. Ain't that the truth…
There's so minor prep work involved for this surgery: eye drops leading up to the surgery, pre-op exam and blood work, and general worry (of course!). But nothing compared to the vitrectomy. Post-op care is also far less terrible than the past surgeries. I'll be using eye drops again, and cannot bend over for a few days, but there's really not much else to it! PHEW.
The surgery itself is only about 10 minutes, and they'll be putting in an acrylic lens that has some optical correction for my eyesight. Because of my surgical/retinal history, I am not eligible for the fancy new lenses, but anything will be better than what I have now. I can't see out of that eye any longer, the cataract is absolutely horrible. Daylight is really difficult to see in, and lights at night while driving are painfully annoying. But this will all be a memory in a few days…
Updates to come after the surgery!
Posts are few and far between now, but when there's not much going on (thankfully!), I don't have much to comment on!
It's hard to believe that it's been over two years since this whole ordeal began. So much has happened, changed. Luckily my retina has remained stable since my vitrectomy, and I'm moving in the direction of feeling as though this issue is almost truly behind me.
On January 15, 2015, I'll undergo my first cataract surgery, at the age of 27. My primary care doctor joked that I was the youngest cataract patient to come through the office for a pre-op exam. Ain't that the truth…
There's so minor prep work involved for this surgery: eye drops leading up to the surgery, pre-op exam and blood work, and general worry (of course!). But nothing compared to the vitrectomy. Post-op care is also far less terrible than the past surgeries. I'll be using eye drops again, and cannot bend over for a few days, but there's really not much else to it! PHEW.
The surgery itself is only about 10 minutes, and they'll be putting in an acrylic lens that has some optical correction for my eyesight. Because of my surgical/retinal history, I am not eligible for the fancy new lenses, but anything will be better than what I have now. I can't see out of that eye any longer, the cataract is absolutely horrible. Daylight is really difficult to see in, and lights at night while driving are painfully annoying. But this will all be a memory in a few days…
Updates to come after the surgery!
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Out of the woods
April 2014
I have never heard my doctor say these words. Ever. The flood of relief that rushed through my body was overwhelming.
"I can't say it won't happen, because we cannot be 100% sure, but you're past the point of major concern. If something was going to re-detach, it most likely would have happened by now. You're pretty much out of the woods."
Unbelievable. He pushed my appointment out four months. That's the longest I've will have gone without seeing him!
Between January and now, I did have an emergency appointment for some weird flashes and flickers I was seeing. He said it was from the small amount of the leftover vitreous gel tugging on my retina and separating. However he also said that it was not a concern and that as long as it didn't change or become worse, that it would be fine and would go away. PHEW.
On the cataract scale, I have a "dense" one. Which is the thickest portion on the scale. It's hard to see in the bright light because my pupil closes down so much that the only area of my lens receiving light has a thick cataract on it. In the dark it's a little easier to see, but still is not normal. We'll be revisiting this issue at a later date, since it's still a little early for a cataract surgery.
All in all, good news though! I've really acclimated to my vision being different, and it's worked because my right eye was unaffected. But it has been a work in progress.
I'm on the other side of this, for the time being at least, which makes me feel like I'm on top of the world.
I have never heard my doctor say these words. Ever. The flood of relief that rushed through my body was overwhelming.
"I can't say it won't happen, because we cannot be 100% sure, but you're past the point of major concern. If something was going to re-detach, it most likely would have happened by now. You're pretty much out of the woods."
Unbelievable. He pushed my appointment out four months. That's the longest I've will have gone without seeing him!
Between January and now, I did have an emergency appointment for some weird flashes and flickers I was seeing. He said it was from the small amount of the leftover vitreous gel tugging on my retina and separating. However he also said that it was not a concern and that as long as it didn't change or become worse, that it would be fine and would go away. PHEW.
On the cataract scale, I have a "dense" one. Which is the thickest portion on the scale. It's hard to see in the bright light because my pupil closes down so much that the only area of my lens receiving light has a thick cataract on it. In the dark it's a little easier to see, but still is not normal. We'll be revisiting this issue at a later date, since it's still a little early for a cataract surgery.
All in all, good news though! I've really acclimated to my vision being different, and it's worked because my right eye was unaffected. But it has been a work in progress.
I'm on the other side of this, for the time being at least, which makes me feel like I'm on top of the world.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
One Year Anniversaries
January 2014
Anniversaries mark so many things. Events, changes (good and bad). Birthdays, graduations, marriages, new jobs. Buying a house, meeting a new friend, starting fresh.
They mark times, both happy and sad, in our lives that shape who we become. They create a sequence of events through which we can replay everything. When you recall your life, you are bringing all of these anniversaries to the surface. We spend our days looking forward to reaching new milestones, but still remembering the ones we've already met.
Thanksgiving 2013 marked one year since my diagnosis and first surgery. It was the one year anniversary of a massive wrench being thrown into my life's gears, causing every bit of it to come the a screeching halt, never to be repairable, only able to have its course changed.
I can still feel the cold breeze that was blowing as I stood outside on the phone with Katzen Eye, making that appointment. The shake in my hands. The sound of the elevator as it took me to a floor of a building where my life would change. The burn of the eye drops. The bright lights illuminating what I didn't know I had. The sound of the doctor's voice. And at the end, the silence. The silence of the entire floor as my mind went numb with fear. Every needle stick, every eye drop, every pill. It's still so fresh. But with every bitter memory, there is a sweet one. A gentle voice of a nurse, a reassuring hug, a get well card, genuine care.
And now, one year later, I've shared a year of my life with anyone who wanted to listen. Why do we share our lives? With strangers? Is it inherent in all of us to share life, to propagate it to others? Everyone has a story. A beginning, an end. And all that time in between. Your "anniversaries;" they create your unique story. The people you meet along the way, they all become characters in your story.
The time since my diagnosis is full of firsts. Firsts that have now become anniversaries. Good and bad, they've happened. Holiday memories riddled with doctor's appointments, pain, medicine, and the inability to enjoy things. So this year we were determined to make it yet another year of firsts. The first holiday since my surgeries. The best holiday since my surgeries. It was scary to think that it had already been a year since everything changed. But here's to it being better.
And now we're well into the new year; and while this week last year was spent receiving the recovery equipment that has now given me PTSD every time I see a massage chair, I'm happy to say that this one year anniversary of my second surgery is being spent in a far better state. It will never fade, the memory of what happened and how, well, traumatic, it was; that will always be there.
My retina is still attached, but my cataract is really bad. It's much worse in daylight and bright light. Cataract surgery will be some time down the road, but inevitable. Although at this point, cataract surgery seems like a walk in the park compared to anything else I have had done to my eyes.
Thanks again for everyone's support over the past year and few months. Let's hope the only updates I post to this blog are positive ones!
And now here's a skateboarding cat, because who doesn't want to see that?! Click here!
Anniversaries mark so many things. Events, changes (good and bad). Birthdays, graduations, marriages, new jobs. Buying a house, meeting a new friend, starting fresh.
They mark times, both happy and sad, in our lives that shape who we become. They create a sequence of events through which we can replay everything. When you recall your life, you are bringing all of these anniversaries to the surface. We spend our days looking forward to reaching new milestones, but still remembering the ones we've already met.
Thanksgiving 2013 marked one year since my diagnosis and first surgery. It was the one year anniversary of a massive wrench being thrown into my life's gears, causing every bit of it to come the a screeching halt, never to be repairable, only able to have its course changed.
I can still feel the cold breeze that was blowing as I stood outside on the phone with Katzen Eye, making that appointment. The shake in my hands. The sound of the elevator as it took me to a floor of a building where my life would change. The burn of the eye drops. The bright lights illuminating what I didn't know I had. The sound of the doctor's voice. And at the end, the silence. The silence of the entire floor as my mind went numb with fear. Every needle stick, every eye drop, every pill. It's still so fresh. But with every bitter memory, there is a sweet one. A gentle voice of a nurse, a reassuring hug, a get well card, genuine care.
And now, one year later, I've shared a year of my life with anyone who wanted to listen. Why do we share our lives? With strangers? Is it inherent in all of us to share life, to propagate it to others? Everyone has a story. A beginning, an end. And all that time in between. Your "anniversaries;" they create your unique story. The people you meet along the way, they all become characters in your story.
The time since my diagnosis is full of firsts. Firsts that have now become anniversaries. Good and bad, they've happened. Holiday memories riddled with doctor's appointments, pain, medicine, and the inability to enjoy things. So this year we were determined to make it yet another year of firsts. The first holiday since my surgeries. The best holiday since my surgeries. It was scary to think that it had already been a year since everything changed. But here's to it being better.
And now we're well into the new year; and while this week last year was spent receiving the recovery equipment that has now given me PTSD every time I see a massage chair, I'm happy to say that this one year anniversary of my second surgery is being spent in a far better state. It will never fade, the memory of what happened and how, well, traumatic, it was; that will always be there.
My retina is still attached, but my cataract is really bad. It's much worse in daylight and bright light. Cataract surgery will be some time down the road, but inevitable. Although at this point, cataract surgery seems like a walk in the park compared to anything else I have had done to my eyes.
Thanks again for everyone's support over the past year and few months. Let's hope the only updates I post to this blog are positive ones!
And now here's a skateboarding cat, because who doesn't want to see that?! Click here!
Thursday, August 22, 2013
6 Month Post-Op Surgery #2: Adaptations
July 25, 2013
My appointment today marked six months post-op since my second surgery. Six months since I was wheeled out of Dulaney Eye Institute with my face in my palms, a throbbing in my left eye, and an ache forming in my neck.
In a short six months, I went from completely helpless, to where I am now. I have learned more about dealing with health insurance companies than I ever thought I would. I have a wealth of knowledge about my eye's anatomy, its function, and unfortunately, its dysfunction. But more importantly, I have learned so much about life, humanity, and healing. The love and care you can give and receive is breathtaking. I will never be able to fix my own eyes, or anything else that may go wrong, but I can give unto others what I was so lucky to receive: the faith in humanity and goodness of others.
The appointment:
It was a good one. Everything is stable! Huge sigh of relief. Since it had been three months since I last saw the doctor, I was painfully nervous while in the waiting room. I have a feeling that nervousness will never go away each time I return after a long time between visits. The laser treatment in both eyes looks great, there is no fluid, and my retina(s) are completely flat. So far so good, and I'm not going back until October.
Here is where I'm at:
Below is what my vision looks like in my left eye with glasses on...
My appointment today marked six months post-op since my second surgery. Six months since I was wheeled out of Dulaney Eye Institute with my face in my palms, a throbbing in my left eye, and an ache forming in my neck.
In a short six months, I went from completely helpless, to where I am now. I have learned more about dealing with health insurance companies than I ever thought I would. I have a wealth of knowledge about my eye's anatomy, its function, and unfortunately, its dysfunction. But more importantly, I have learned so much about life, humanity, and healing. The love and care you can give and receive is breathtaking. I will never be able to fix my own eyes, or anything else that may go wrong, but I can give unto others what I was so lucky to receive: the faith in humanity and goodness of others.
The appointment:
It was a good one. Everything is stable! Huge sigh of relief. Since it had been three months since I last saw the doctor, I was painfully nervous while in the waiting room. I have a feeling that nervousness will never go away each time I return after a long time between visits. The laser treatment in both eyes looks great, there is no fluid, and my retina(s) are completely flat. So far so good, and I'm not going back until October.
Here is where I'm at:
Below is what my vision looks like in my left eye with glasses on...
It's hard functioning sometimes with limited vision in my left eye. I find myself turning my body or head with my right eye closer to whatever I'm looking at. I definitely favor my right side now because of the inability to see well on the left side. Women will be able to commiserate with this: I have a hard time putting make up on my right eye because I have to use my left eye to see (since my right eye is closed to put on the eye make up). This is impossible for me. So I have to keep my right eye slightly open to see what I'm doing, which usually ends with some sort of make up getting in my right eye and irritating it. But it's all a part of adapting and eventually I may have vision restored on that left side. The doctor believes that the dark spot in my vision is my cataract. A specific cataract that develops from the use of the gas and having eye surgery. He says its smack dab in the middle of my lens, which would explain why I see that dark spot in the middle of my vision.
At this point I just need to call him if anything changes, but he is thrilled with my progress. It is hard to believe that six months ago I was starting my journey through this living hell and now I am back to living life. But I couldn't be happier.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
VisionWalk: Baltimore 2013
May 28, 2013
On Saturday, June 1, 2013, in Baltimore, Maryland, my wonderful husband and I will take part in the VisionWalk to help raise money to fund research to cure blindness.
While I don't have a disease that is causing me progressive blindness, I was and still am facing the fear of losing my vision. My detachment is "fixed" for now, however I do have lattice degeneration, which does put me at a higher risk for a re-detachment or a detachment in my other eye. As you know from reading this blog, the thought of losing my vision was paralyzing. This foundation can contribute to finding a cure so that eventually that fear can be erased. No one should have to know what that feels like.
At the start of the fundraiser, I set a goal to raise $1,000 as my donation to find a cure for blindness. As of today, I have raised (with the generous help of many others) a total of $690. With four days left, I can still raise the remaining $310 if YOU help!
I know that I don't know many of you who have read this, or are continuing to read this. But I do know that chances are, you or someone you know, may be dealing with problems that this foundation could help to cure. Even if your eyes are healthy, you never know what may happen in the future. You or someone you love could ultimately benefit from medical advancements made by donations to the Foundation Fighting Blindness.
Donations can be made anonymously, and if you can consider even donating $10, it will go a long way.
If you would have asked me a year ago if my vision was important, I would have said, "of course." Ask me now. I cannot even begin to make anyone understand how grateful I am to have it.
If you'd like to donate, please follow this link:
http://www.fightblindness.org/site/TR?px=2451142&fr_id=4880&pg=personal
If you'd like to read more about FFB, follow this link:
http://www.blindness.org
On Saturday, June 1, 2013, in Baltimore, Maryland, my wonderful husband and I will take part in the VisionWalk to help raise money to fund research to cure blindness.
While I don't have a disease that is causing me progressive blindness, I was and still am facing the fear of losing my vision. My detachment is "fixed" for now, however I do have lattice degeneration, which does put me at a higher risk for a re-detachment or a detachment in my other eye. As you know from reading this blog, the thought of losing my vision was paralyzing. This foundation can contribute to finding a cure so that eventually that fear can be erased. No one should have to know what that feels like.
At the start of the fundraiser, I set a goal to raise $1,000 as my donation to find a cure for blindness. As of today, I have raised (with the generous help of many others) a total of $690. With four days left, I can still raise the remaining $310 if YOU help!
I know that I don't know many of you who have read this, or are continuing to read this. But I do know that chances are, you or someone you know, may be dealing with problems that this foundation could help to cure. Even if your eyes are healthy, you never know what may happen in the future. You or someone you love could ultimately benefit from medical advancements made by donations to the Foundation Fighting Blindness.
Donations can be made anonymously, and if you can consider even donating $10, it will go a long way.
If you would have asked me a year ago if my vision was important, I would have said, "of course." Ask me now. I cannot even begin to make anyone understand how grateful I am to have it.
If you'd like to donate, please follow this link:
http://www.fightblindness.org/site/TR?px=2451142&fr_id=4880&pg=personal
If you'd like to read more about FFB, follow this link:
http://www.blindness.org
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