Day 6 & 7 Post-Op: How far is halfway there?

January 29 and January 30, 2013

Today marks the halfway point: it has been one week since my surgery. On Friday afternoon I will go to a doctor appointment that will hopefully bring strictly good news.

Every morning I wake up with sore teeth, a swollen upper lip, and an ache in my knees. Dizziness ensues ten minutes later during my eye drops. Lunchtime brings some increased soreness as the Advil wears off. Every time I get up to stretch out, my joints creak and crack like I've been mummified for centuries. Another dose of Advil and I have a new, invigorated energy, for a few hours at least. Every movement of my eyes causes the bubble to jiggle. Imagine looking through a jello jiggler- it looks like that. The horizon line (I'm referring to the edge of the bubble) is really starting to come in clear. It is bringing me closer and closer to the end point.

Day 7 Post-Op

Oh and my eyes aren't crossed- they just look like this in the picture because of the angle I was holding the camera at! My face is in the headrest so pardon how stretched and weird I look- the photo is more to show how much better my eye looks this time around than the first time with the buckle.

Tuesday was hard- I was getting frustrated at everything. Every ache and pain was just beating me up emotionally, too. The lack of sleep was just catching up to me and I was tired of the eye drops, the pain, the facedown life. It had already been almost a week since surgery, but my mind was thinking, "it has ONLY been a week since surgery." I couldn't find my little escape to get me out of that pessimistic attitude. I couldn't nap, it was interrupted by timers for eye drops going off or just by pain. One of those two was always the culprit.

Wednesday was a little easier. I started my day with the same routine. Drops, pudding, Advil, teeth brushing, face wash, change clothes. And after 30 minutes of all of this stuff, my neck is usually ready to just try to relax, so I melt into the chair and headrest. Ryan packs my picnic, readjusts everything, puts on a movie and off to work he goes. About an hour into the movie, I'm just so tired and decide I'm going to turn down my phone and try to take advantage of this opportunity.

Three hours. Consecutively. I slept. That was the most sleep since the Monday before surgery.

There isn't too much to report here other than I am at the halfway point. But what is halfway? How far is it? Because I'm halfway to the end of the two week mark, but certainly not halfway to being back to "normal." So I honestly don't know how far halfway is.

How far can you walk into the woods?

Halfway. Then you're walking out.

Silver lining, days 6 & 7 post-op: I was able to sit outside both days on our balcony. And the sun even warmed me up on Tuesday. Never did going outside feel as good as it did these past two days. Even if I was looking primarily at the ground.

My view.

Day 5 Post-Op: 50 Shades of Grey, Blue, and Orange

January 28, 2013

With each passing day, I was told that the bubble will be slowing decreasing. And with that slow decrease in size, I would begin to see differently through it. Twinkles of blue, orange and yellow occur occasionally at the edge of the bubble. I can see color through it, but its like looking through a sort of psychedelic filter. Each time I tilt my head back to put in the eye drops four times a day, a morphing blob wiggles through my blurred vision. It jiggles when I move my eyes around. Ryan says it looks like a little white light sparkling in my massively dilated pupil. The edges of the bubble look like a tide changing as it creeps up onto the dry sand.

Lookin' good...

Each morning so far has been similar, and this routine, just like in my previous surgery, was comforting.

Beep. Beep.

Timer going off on my phone- first set of eye drops at 8 am. A gentle wipe of the crusties, and the sequence of drops begins. One of the four varieties of pudding down the hatch and next comes the Advil. Three pills, three gulps of water. Washing your face- use make-up removing clothes. They are easy and take off the tape residue from the eye patch each night with ease. I enjoy brushing my teeth on the floor. I use a bowl with water and rinse using that. Much easier, for me, instead of the sink.

My sink.

At this point, my mind just thinks, "time needs to start passing."

Prior to today, someone had been with me for every second of each day. I had yet to have to experience solitude. Trust me, I wanted the company. My parents, Ryan, his parents: it all helped time pass. Face timing is also a good way to have a "visitor" without actually having them over. Last night, I was on FaceTime with my cousin for about two hours- before I knew it, I needed to do the nightly portion of my routine.

Between my AM and lunchtime drops, TV does a pretty good job at passing time. Watching the price is right usually makes an hour tick faster.

Lunchtime! Drops time. Dizzy time. My equilibrium is balanced at this point for me to be horizontal, so vertical positioning with my head up throws me off. Ryan has to prevent me from pinging into things sometimes. Between lunch and dinner, board games usually help most, or a movie. Pick a board game that will last a while- monopoly, dominoes, something that makes you forget about time. I pop in another two Advil around 2 PM. This keeps the pain at a minimum in my neck, preventing major discomfort. Eat things that won't fall back out of your mouth. That's the biggest problem with eating, aside from the indigestion I get from having my esophagus tilted while face down. I wouldn't advise soup unless you want to drink it with a straw. Cut the food up really tiny, otherwise I guarantee you it will fall back out if your mouth before you have a chance to swallow. Try to have some humility when this happens. It's funny to other people. It's also funny to them when you drool occasionally. Sometimes it just happens! But that's ok, those are the lighter moments during the recovery so cherish them.

Hours tick by until dinner. More drops and another dose of Advil with my meal.

We come down home stretch at this point. Only four hours until the Advil PM and then I can get to sleep. Once the main chunk of the day is behind you, the evening hours pass quickly.

10 PM shows its face. At last. One more day of routine down. Two pills and three drops. Sleeping is still uncomfortable with my head in the u-shaped rest, but every time I fight through a night of broken sleep, I'm one day closer to being able to lay down in whatever direction I want!

Everyone else is tired, too.

Good things to do: play games, use an iPad or tablet to surf the web. Watch movies or hour long shows, time goes faster. If you're tired, take a nap. Take advantage of any sleep your mind and body is so lovingly giving you. (Sarcasm attached to the word lovingly).

Bad things to do: just sit. Don't do this. You'll start thinking about every little change in the bubble wondering if its just the bubble or something else. Don't think about the experience as a whole. When I think about the fact that by the time I'm finished with all of this, I will have spent two weeks of my life face down, it gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Easier to not think about it and skip the nausea of it all.

Today is my first day alone at home. Ryan packed me a picnic! In a little cooler. Which I am enjoying inside, under the warmth of a heating pad on my recovery chair. Jealous? You should be.

Tasty treats.

Take each part of the day one bit at a time.

Staring at the floor so often the past few days, I've noticed things I'm not sure I'm glad about or not... I discovered some red wines stains I had no idea were there... Must be time for a steam cleaning...

And now there is a pudding pack with my name on it, and a gas bubble view to help me pretend I'm watching the ocean tides come in and go back out. I even have my nails painted (courtesy of mom) to pretend like I'm lounging on my imaginary beach.

Multi-colored!!

Silver lining: I got to watch the ravens rally on TV that I otherwise wouldn't have been able to watch in the middle of the day.

Day 4 Post-Op: Not a ditch, not a retina, not the 49ers!

January 27, 2013

After a pretty decent night's sleep, I found that I had a full day where I wasn't in a horrible amount of pain. I felt rested. Shocking! So if the past few days are forming a pattern, then I will be feeling even better tomorrow.

The morning is a little hard eating. Pudding is a good breakfast. Maybe I'll continue that after this two week stint.... My teeth are oddly sore in the morning, as is my jaw. I never thought teeth could become sore, but here we are! It's probably from having them shoved in the sleeping wedge.

Does anyone need a box of kleenex? I have a ton of extras. I was prepared to be a leaky faucet with my eye and that certainly wasn't the case. I am definitely not complaining though!

Around noon today, Ryan started playing the SNL skit from last night that featured Ray Lewis from the Baltimore Ravens played by Kenan Thompson. We are huge Ravens fans. In case you didn't know. And we hadn't seen it.

The video hit about a minute and fourth five seconds in and all the sudden I heard, "I cracked two ribs, Seth. I got a DETACHED RETINA." I almost fell over. Oh wait. I was already laying face down.

It was unbelievable that of all the things for the writers to have put in there- detached retina ended up making the cut.

Check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c7tgrxzme3o

Six hours later and one game of monopoly with my parents, a whole day passed by. Play a long board game. It will help with the time! Although every other turn I was either sent to jail, paying a $50 doctor fee (which I'd prefer to pay that price in real life as well, Katzen Eye Group, wink wink), or paying a poor tax. A poor tax? C'mon, kick me when I'm down why don't you.

In one week, we will be an hour into a game where I hope no one ends up with a detached retina. I'm five days in and almost to the half way mark of the two weeks. With some more patience, and pudding of course, I'll be watching the Super Bowl through a smaller bubble.

Silver lining: I am at the halfway point- between my surgery and my Friday doctor appointment!

Days 2 & 3 Post-Op: Bursting the Bubble

January 25 and January 26, 2013

Ok, so I know that title is a little misleading, but you're reading the post now, aren't you? There's the humor- I know you've missed it!

I'm talking more about a figurative bubble than the physical bubble in my eye.

The first night was really hard. And the day after was really hard, too. However, that night was easier. I took the Advil PM and that ended up putting me to sleep quickly. My body fought hard to stay awake but it was no match for the medicine. I slept. I honestly slept. I woke up a few times, but I had my wedge with my headrest on the floor so I wasn't bending, bowing, and stuck in a pile of pillows.

It was amazing to feel like I was rested. Simply amazing. I had an okay day, but I was still trying to ward off pain. Advil was helping but not curing.

I have ups and downs. An hour of feeling good followed by a half hour of feeling irritable. Followed by more good feelings and then more bad.

Friday- I had been relatively inactive, because of the pain. It started just in my neck. Then progressed to my entire spine. Then started wrapping around my entire neck from and back. Then it migrated up into my head. I was unable to move my head at all, just shear pain. After figuring out that the chair might be the problem, my mom got on the phone with the equipment leasing company. Come to find out, and long story short, the chair I was sent was too big for me, which was causing me to have to stretch my neck and spine very far upwards in order to get my head in the head rest. They company over-nighted another chair more appropriate for my height out to be delivered Saturday.

Play games, watch movies. They help the time pass. It's easier getting through each day when a chunk of a couple hours goes by and you don't realize it's gone by so fast.

Tri-Ominoes with Mom!!

Ok, so now we're headed into the night again, but now I know that I will be getting a new chair in less than 24 hours.

Silver lining, day two post-op: My dad came over and we all had a yummy family dinner together!

Friday- sleeping- this wasn't GREAT but definitely not as bad as that first night. I slept a little less than the night before, and Ryan actually had to get up early so I did get a little less sleep, but I was becoming able to tolerate all of this much better.

Saturday- My new chair arrived at 11am and that couldn't have come sooner. The new chair was smaller, my spine didn't have to try to make up for an extra 4 inches by stretching to a degree that was basically impossible. I could finally let my neck and back muscles relax. FINALLY. Such a huge relief. A word of advice: make sure that the company you order from is VERY clear on your height- this has a substantial impact on the size of equipment you will receive.

My eye doesn't feel as gritty, and I still don't have any pain associated with my actual eye. Getting this new chair has completely changed my attitude and my comfort level. It has burst the pain bubble and I am now resting much more comfortably. Ryan and my parents both said that as soon as I started sitting in the new chair, you could just see the relief on my body. Cue music: "Atttt laaaaassssstttt!!!!!" It's the song by Etta James. Those two words were just perfect for how this new chair felt to sit in. I mean I was at the point where I was completely unable to hold my own head up because my muscles were so fatigued.

I received an AWESOME edible arrangement from Ryan's office, they are so wonderful!! Thank you guys :) Who knew pineapple covered in chocolate was SO good? But I mean, you could cover almost anything in chocolate and it would be good.

So here we are, wrapping up the third full day post-op, but fourth day overall since I was home by about 2pm on surgery day. I can say that no matter what, this will soon become just a memory and I will have my vision, for which I am so grateful. For patients- get the correct size chair, and keep up with your pain management. Don't let it get too bad, you need to stay ahead of the pain! Your face, not just your surgery eye, will fill with fluid. And it's funny looking. I looked like I had a fat upper lip because a lot of fluid settled there while I was asleep. That went down as the day went by though. All just a small price to pay for your vision though- keep it in mind as best you can.

Plus, it's funny when someone walks up to you while you're in your chair- if you have the little mirror in the position to watch tv and they step in front of it, you awkwardly have to say, "you'll want to sit down, I'm pretty much just staring at your crotch."

Fluid retention makes you look funny.

Silver lining, day three post-op: Each day has become easier, and my new chair is giving my neck and back some much needed relief- thanks to overnight shipping!!

The Hardest Day Yet: Day 1 Post-Op

I had no clue how hard this would be. I thought I was prepared. I thought I knew. Or at least had some idea.

I fell asleep surprisingly fast last night at about 10:30 pm. At 12:30 am, I abruptly woke up gasping for breath and frantically trying to get out from all of the pillows and blankets while keeping my head looking down. I was screaming for Ryan who was sleeping on the couch. He came running in and sat with me while I laid crying on the floor.

I tried to sleep again about 30 minutes later. Managed another 45 minutes of sleep before my body woke me up again gasping for air.

My mom came over at 3 am. I spent the next four and a half hours switching from the floor to the chair and back again. Awake and unable to sleep. By the time we headed to the doctor's office, I was in such unbearable pain that every bump in the road sent shooting pains up and down my entire spine. There was not a single position that felt even moderately ok.

The appointment was great. No sign of infection and my retina is ATTACHED. The gas bubble is at 95% and I must remain face down to keep it away from the lens of my eye so as to not develop a cataract. I love this office, I can't say that enough.

I can't see through the bubble. It refracts light very weird and the most I can see are shadows and very blurry movements. My eye doesn't look nearly as bad as after the buckle surgery, and isn't nearly as painful. The most irritating thing about it is the gritty, scratchy feeling from the sutures in the white part of my eye. But that should go away in about a week.

All in all, the pain in my neck and back is excruciating and I get very dizzy every time I shift positions, even if I don't lift my head up. It quite frankly is just miserable.

To anyone who is or will be going through this: for me, the first night was the worst, just honest absolute worst night I have experienced in my recent memories. It is worse than any of the buckle pain from surgery number one. Maybe it was my chair or the way I was sleeping. I'm not sure. Either way, just take pain meds ahead of time. Don't let the pain start before you take medicine. Get a heating pad. Use it often. Get back massages from anyone who offers. Eat in small pieces, or eat just soft food. Pudding, sherbet, mashed potatoes. Noodles are easy, too. Take clothes out and put them in stacks on the floor. Put the toilet paper on the floor. Use straws. Realistically, this will be hard. It will be very hard. Surgery was the easy part. Utilize anyone who offers to help. I had to brush my teeth over a bowl this morning. You will get dizzy. It's ok though. This is hard and you have every right to feel like it's hard. Change positions often- go from bed to chair to floor. It will keep your knees and shins from hurting in the chair, as well as your chest. It will be hard to breathe, and your sinuses will be filled with fluid. I'm trying Advil PM tonight so we will see if that helps with sleep and congestion. But again, utilize anyone who offers to help, I guarantee you will need and want it.

This entire day and last night have been hard, and each minute that passes I am one minute closer to the end. But taking it an hour at a time is all I can really manage at the moment. As the day comes to a close and the night approaches, I'm trying to prepare for the difficulties of what will soon happen.

Silver lining, day one post-op: For the first time since I began seeing Dr Grodin in November, he did NOT say I had "persistent sub-retinal fluid." My retina is currently attached!

First time looking through the gas bubble since surgery.

Day of Surgery: Don't Mess with My IOP

January 23, 2013

Surgery Day: My Gas Bubble

After snoozing for an extra 20 minutes, I dragged myself out of bed with my stomach grumbling for food.  Fast forward to 9 am, I had deja vu as we walk into Dulaney Eye Institute.  The receptionist remembered us, same routine as last time.  It wasn't more than 5 minutes before my name was called.

"Mrs. Dooley?"

I couldn't believe I was being called back already.  

I walked down the all too familiar hallway and rounded the corner to where I had been sitting just 9 weeks ago.  A trash bag, a hospital gown, and a hair net  are sitting on my gurney.  

After my wardrobe change, I knew what was coming next.

"Oh My God, what on earth happened to your arm?"

Remember when the nurse blew my veins during my pre-op physical?  Yeah, she was staring right at the bruises.

"Wow, I will do my best to not give you a nasty bruise like that on your left arm, too."

With one little pinch, the catheter was in and the worries of any bruising on my left arm were gone.  She clipped my finger into the pulse monitor and I quickly discovered that my pulse was much faster than it was during my first surgery.  A speedy 75 (it was only 55 at this same time during my first surgery).

After bartering with the nurse, Ryan and my Mom were able to come back and sit with me.  Dr. Grodin came by to do one final check to see if, by some crazy miracle, the fluid had disappeared and I wouldn't be needing surgery.  

One big bright light later: negative.  Oh well, I'm already here so let's get this done.

With cords and cables, I was anxiously awaiting to find out who my Anesthesiologist would be.  When that familiar face came walking towards me, I immediately began to feel a little better.

They were ready for me.

With a quick injection of the drunk-state-of-mind inducing medicine, I was staring back up at the same ceiling again.  Another shot of Propofol, and I was out like a light.

Dr. Grodin informed me that it was absolutely crucial that I stay as still as possible during the entire procedure.  With that order, and despite being under twilight anesthesia, I was completely still and quiet the entire time.  Before I knew it, it was all over and my gurney was heading back out of the OR.  The vitreous gel was removed from my entire retina without causing any more tears.  He removed all of the subretinal fluid, flattened out my retina, and treated the detached area and all of the lattice on the periphery of my eye with the laser to adhere my retina to the back of my eye. Done and done, success.

The beginning of THE FACE DOWN

I had about 5 minutes before the nurse told me that I needed to put my head face down on a table.  I hadn't even changed out of the hospital gown yet.  She read the rundown of instructions and medications to us, patiently answering all of our questions. 

My first attempt at trying to manage doing a normal activity while face down: changing back into my clothes.  

The wheelchair arrived and I'm pushed down to the car.  I climbed in and grabbed my travel block, only to find that using this contraption would be far more difficult then I thought.  One uncomfortable ride home later, I walk into our apartment, kneel down, and lower myself onto the ground.

I just laid there.  For about 10 minutes.  I had no interest in moving.


Then I moved up into my chair.



A little while later, I laid back down on the floor, this time in my snuggie.  

Snuggie plus floor.

For the next 2 weeks, I come with a warning label.  

Don't mess with my IOP

Pudding was the easiest thing to eat.  But eating regular food was feasible in very small bites.  Up to this moment I have yet to experience any major pain.  The worst part about this whole thing is definitely the positioning.  My neck is already becoming extremely sore.  However, my chair does come with a little tray table that I can eat off of, play board games on, read, or use my phone on.

Yum, dinner!

I'm almost like a horse with blinders on because I can only see whats directly in front of me on the tray.  My handy angled mirror does allow me to see a person sitting in front of me or the TV though.  

Sleeping will be the most difficult I think, especially with my eye patch. 

Zzzzz....

I can't wait until my Dr.'s appointment in the morning to have the eye patch removed since it's making it even harder to get in a comfortable position.  

Silver lining, surgery day: It's hard to not to feel good when I have had such a large outpouring of support from my closest family and friends, as well as friends I haven't spoken to in a while.  THANK YOU ALL!

Dictated by Tasha
Typed by Ryan

Night Before: The Eyes are Useless to a Mind that is Blind

When everything felt like it was just unraveling, and I couldn't do anything more, this blog came about. This is what I am doing it for. For anyone who wants to read it and feel something. Anything.

Do it- feel something. Feel whatever you want to. Good. Bad. Just feel something. Living life in a state of neutrality is not worthwhile. When you can honestly think to yourself and feel your mind, you can see. The eyes are useless to a mind that is blind.

Today I have the luxury of feeling fear, nerves, and anxiety in bits and pieces. The typical fears during this journey. But it's one more day. One more day to feel the cold (and damn is it cold today) bite of winter. And each day is precious.

Eight PM tonight, I can't have anything else to eat or drink. Everything is in order. The apartment is ready. My equipment is ready. Now I just have to convince myself I'm ready. This has been a huge build-up of anticipation. More-so worried anticipation but anticipation none-the-less. My mom and I made me a home-made snuggie from an old blanket I had in college. Except mine is so much better. Mine has pockets! I'm actually not sure if snuggies have pockets but this one is better regardless.

HOME-MADE SNUGGIE!!

I'm going to try something to help keep some of the negative or fearful thoughts away. I will try to post something each day. And in each post will be one comment at the end. "Every cloud has its silver lining." This sentence at the end of each post will be my daily silver lining. Maybe by forcing myself to find a positive point of each day, it will help to keep my frustration level (and therefore blood pressure) down.

Silver lining, day before surgery: With the coldest days of winter happening today and tomorrow (well, so far, and only according to the accuracy of our weather forecasters, and come on, they've been sleeping on the job recently, the forecasts haven't exactly been on target) I have an awesome excuse to not have to do anything except sit and watch TV!

Retinal Detachment Fun Facts!

I needed to fill time. Sitting and doing nothing became difficult. After scouring the internet, this is what I came up with:

• Journalist, publisher and politician Joseph Pulitzer suffered from retinal detachment, going blind in his 40's, yet continuing to run his newspaper empire
• Boxer Sugar Ray Leonard suffered retinal detachment
• According to the American Academy of Opthalmology, doctors speculate that retinal detachment is what caused Teddy Roosevelt's blindness
• Michael Roux, Jr, chef at the famous restaurant Le Gavroche in London has suffered a retinal detachment twice
• While we're in Europe, former Prime Minister Gordon Brown has suffered that as well
• Race car drivers often suffer this condition: Bobby Wawak, "Big Daddy" Don Garlits
• Retinal detachment IS considered a medical emergency
• It is painless to have, but treatment is not so pain-free
• In a study from Japan in 1990- 1.84 million patients were analyzed: of that number, only 110 experienced retinal detachment associated with lattice degeneration, 72 from tears, and 38 from atrophic holes
• About 1 in 15,000 people in the U.S. experience a retinal detachment
• Highly myopic (near-sighted) individuals have a higher risk of developing it- in fact, 5% of this group will experience a detachment in their lifetime
• Your risk increases further if you have a family history of it, had cataract surgery, have lattice degeneration, or have an active lifestyle that puts you at a higher risk (i.e. TREE SURGEON. I had to put this in here, I found it on a website and had never heard that term before!)
• Your risk of developing a RD in the second eye increases once you've had it in the first, 15% of people will have that happen

2 Days Pre-Surgery #2: A Cat's Life is the Life for Me

Two days and counting. 

THE BOX

It's here. The UPS truck pulled up. I was trying not to watch for any delivery trucks, but I obviously was not successful at avoiding that.

"I think this is it..."

Ryan's phone rings and my suspicion is confirmed. My equipment is here and my surgery is rapidly approaching.

Think about the last time you went to an amusement park. Did you get a souvenir coffee mug? T-shirt? Water bottle, perhaps?

Me too. And little did I know, having eye surgery is up there in the same category as an amusement park visit. Maybe I should get a shirt that says, "My eye detached its retina and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." Oh, and my eyesight. I did get (or will soon get, rather) my eye sight back to near normal.

Souvenir!

Also, if you have a cat, I am forewarning you- he or she WILL try to take your recovery equipment and claim it as his or her own bed within minutes of unpacking it. And when you put a sheet over it to try to make it more comfortable, you may as well throw up a white flag because your cat has declared ownership. The only effective source of removing such cat would be treats, LOTS of treats.

Keiko. The cat who steals your bed. And your heart.

So you may have some grand illusion that the equipment is like sitting on fluffy little clouds that cushion you in all the right places. The people in the photographs in the brochure look like they're having so much fun. Even the instructional DVD says, "use the convenient travel block when visiting friends, family, or traveling to doctor's appointments!" Gotta love the enthusiasm. HOWEVER, I truly to not anticipate being quite as content sitting in the chair all day as they seemed for the five minutes it took to photograph that shot. But you never know...

After fussing with all of the settings to make the chair the correct height, I situate myself in it to make sure I could maneuver the mirror correctly to see the TV. Now, if there was a burglar sneaking up on me from any angle except DIRECTLY in front of me (well, directly in front of my mirror), I'd be robbed. Or maybe I'd hear him approaching because of his chuckling from how funny I look. Either way, my ability to see anything going on around me is basically eliminated when I'm in that chair. 

Having everything here made it very real. I spent most of the day nervously trying to avoid the fearful thoughts of surgery. Tomorrow is the day. The last day I will remain vertical. The last night I will sleep with no constraints. The last day I can drink out of a cup without a straw. For a long two weeks. But the last part isn't too bad, straws are manageable...

I did find reinforcement that the newspaper is unfortunately an obsolete source for most people (not me, I like the actual paper), except the day after an AFC Championship when every person in Baltimore wants a front page to frame. Maybe that's what will keep it alive! Maybe?? Thanks Ravens, 49ers. Thank you for giving me a Super Bowl to REALLY look forward to watching in two weeks!

3 Days Pre-Surgery #2: The Impossible Truth

This post may go unnoticed or get a cursory glance. But it's very necessary.

It's been really weird as I think about what I have relived over the past few days as I wrote about my experience. It was easy at points. Some points were difficult as I thought back to how hard it was getting through the first surgery and recovery. And as this surgery looms closer and closer, all those old feelings are beginning to boil back to the surface.

There were points during the recovery from the buckle surgery where I was so upset and worried that fears of what else could be wrong with me started to cloud the little area of my mind that had been left alone. I began to get anxious (as you know) about every little flash or floater, but I was also becoming anxious about my health in general.

Now I know what you're thinking.

"This girl is nuts."

Trust me, I think the same thing. But as I'm preparing for this next surgery and recovery, these horrible, anxious thoughts are swarming back in.

Ryan and I went to P.F. Chang's tonight for dinner. We hadn't been out to dinner in a long time. It was a very nice date night. Cocktails, dinner, dessert. I'd been looking forward to it. We decided we'd have a date night the Saturday before my surgery. At the time when we planned this, the night seemed so far away.

It's scaring me that the night has now come and gone.

That means I'm one day closer.

Honestly, with the love and support that has come from writing this blog and putting out there what I'm going through, I thought I'd be able to manage all of the worry that I was scared would come along with getting closer to the vitrectomy.

I was wrong. Proved wrong again, like so many times during this process.

I'm having an even harder time making this humorous, much less trying to barricade the worry in a back corner in my mind. The humor, it's not coming to me.

The fortunes we opened at the restaurant were very fitting. Tonight was a night for us to just be happy and escape in ourselves. Enjoy time that we haven't had for over two months now. And the other is true as well. These problems will soon be buried in the sand of time. But the process of burying them still takes time and still has to be done.

This is my road block, and what I feared inevitably would happen. I have now had far more time to prepare for this surgery than the last, which has proved to be that unfortunate double edged sword that no one seems to care for. There's more time to make sure everything I need is ready, but there's more time for me to worry.

Worry is such an annoying feeling. Why it exists is beyond me. I suppose it exists to show you and those close to you that you care. Generally you worry about your loved ones and friends. Not always to a crazy degree, but if you're worried about their well-being or safety, so on and so forth, you obviously care. But aside from that, what purpose does worrying serve? It only leaves the worriers in a state of pure entrapment- in their own mind.

Now my own mind has been a source of issue this entire time. It had been the culprit of many tears, frustrations, anxieties and demons. There's a very small, I'd go as far as to say nearly microscopic, part of me that is excited to have the surgery so that I can have this problem resolved. But the other 99.99% of me is ready to pull my hair out and lock myself in a closet and never come out.

I know that sounds dramatic but its true. Some people have no time at all to prepare for a surgery like this given the nature of retinal detachment issues. I don't know if I'm in the lucky group that has time, or the unlucky group that has time.

I keep thinking of all the encouraging love and support that everyone is showing. It upsets me to think that I'm letting anyone down though. That by being so scared, I'm not living up to this illusion of an individual who can handle the truth.

"You can't handle the truth!"

The truth. The truth is I can handle it. But I don't want to. I want to keep pushing this back, and just have time suspend itself indefinitely. Freeze everything at this moment so that I can relive what washes away anxiety and fear instead of what worsens it by the second.

This is about as honest as it gets. There is no sugar coating. I'm not sure how real the next two weeks will become, but I know that the truth of reality is sinking in. That three days from now I will embark on something that I have no prior experience to compare to. That every tear, worry, struggle and frustration will exist whether I want it to or not.

The truth shall set you free.

In three days I will know. Maybe once I know I'll feel more free from the worry of the unknown. Isn't that what most people are scared of anyway? The unknown? It's what drives some to learn more, to go farther, but its what stops some dead in their tracks. Sometimes you have a choice of pushing through the uncomfortable and scary. Sometimes you don't. And in times of forceful change or fear, you learn what you're truly capable of.

I have the utmost faith and confidence in my doctor and his staff. What a true saving grace that is to have. I know Dr. Grodin will not stop until my problem has met it's fix. It's the getting to the fix that's hard. Not impossible, just hard. "Faith is the art of holding onto things in spite of your changing moods and circumstances." - C.S. Lewis.

With any luck, I'll have a Super Bowl to look forward to- one that includes a team wearing purple and black!

6 Days Pre-Surgery #2: The Flu Bug

6 Days Pre-Surgery #2: Flu-shots.

This is a fairly random post, but I thought it would be entertaining. Yesterday, Ryan and I went and got flu-shots together! 

The last thing I wanted was to end up with the flu while I was stuck face down. I will already end up having some fluid build up from the position I'll be in, but if I had all of the horrible mucus and coughing/sneezing and stomach issues that come along with that virus, I think they would end up having to put me in a padded room quite frankly.

Ryan was very, very adverse to this. According to him (jokingly), he has three doctors. Jim, Jose (not very often at all though), and Jack. So getting him to get a flu-shot was a BIG deal. 

I had just left my physical at Doctor's Express where they were unfortunately out of the vaccines. I stopped in CVS and they had some in stock- the new intra-dermal ones. This sounded fine to me because anything would be better at this point considering my arm was bruising more by the minute from the blown veins in it. Which, by the way, looks HORRIBLE today.

Ring. Ring. "Hello?"

"Hi sweetie. So I'm at CVS and I'm getting a flu-shot, will you get one so that you don't bring it home to me and give me the flu while I'm recovering this time, since you gave me a cold while I was recovering from the last surgery? Pleaseeee?"

"No. No, I am not getting that."

Fast forward through the compromising, he is on his way to CVS.

We are sitting there waiting by the pharmacy for them to prepare the shots. If you haven't heard of the intra-dermal shots, they're pretty cool. Instead of going into your muscle, they are more superficial. Smaller needle, less pain at the time of injection, and less pain post-injection. 

The pharmacist walks out.

Ryan is grumbling next to me. She pulls everything out and I get mine first. 

Alcohol wipe. One, two, three, PINCH. All done. And it was definitely less of a pinch than the traditional shots. 

Ryan is next. Part of me is really excited- which sounds kind of mean but he was being such a smart-ass while we were waiting. He had to take off his button-down shirt. Which of course made him roll his eyes in a joking manner. Pulls his sleeve up, and she shoots him. 

All done. No biggie. I'm standing up and putting my jacket on, Ryan is readjusting his shirt and putting it on while the pharmacist is cleaning up and chatting with us. 

Out of no-where Ryan blurts out, "Oh my god, my whole arm is numb!"

I moved faster than I had in past 7 weeks. I spin around and yell out, "what?!"

The pharmacist's mouth was just hanging open, like she didn't know what to say and in what was a grand total of 5 seconds start to finish, he had faked having a numb arm and goes, "Just kidding! Sorry..." as he chuckled at the end. 

Now I've been listening to him give personality to his immune system all afternoon today. His arm is a little sore, as is his armpit. Which is a normal reaction. So to him, this is what his immune system is saying, "27 years of faithful service and this is how you repay me? Why are you doing this to me? I've kept you from having the flu for your entire life, why don't you believe in me?"

This will be a long 6 days... and yes, he uses a special, higher pitched voice to imitate his immune system's inability to speak... If you know him, this should not surprise you in the least!

Week 7: Vitrectomy NOT Vasectomy

January 11, 2013 - January 15, 2013

Days 43 - 48: Surgical Preparation.

I had my folder. My folder with my marching orders. 

To do list:

• Go get another pre-surgical exam and bloodwork
• Order recovery equipment
• Prepare the apartment
• Try to not worry

The last one was my biggest hurdle. 

Throughout this entire experience, Ryan has kept this unfaltering sense of humor and positivity that I just couldn't match. No matter how pessimistic and upset I got, he was always walking around with glass half full of freakin' sunshine. This was, at times, a source of my frustration, because I didn't understand why and how he could be so positive when I so clearly was having so much trouble. One wouldn't think your eye could debilitate you so much, but here we are! I cannot thank him enough for having that attitude though. It's been a huge catalyst in getting me to where I am now: accepting my situation. I'm forever grateful to that. 

I think I need to throw out some thank-you's real quick:

Ryan- for everything he's done. Every appointment he's gone to with me, every dinner he cooked, the positive attitude. 

Mom and Dad- All of the rides they gave me before I was driving again and all of the support they've given.

All family and friends- The support and encouragement since I decided to broadcast this has been so amazing- THANK YOU ALL. And to everyone prior to broadcasting this who has been just as encouraging and supportive, THANK YOU!

Dr. Grodin and staff- There is an overwhelming sense of calm that I had knowing they would be taking care of me. I am eternally grateful for that dedication to helping others, specifically me.

Naturally, I forgot a few questions, so the day of my appointment on the 10th and then continuing into the 11th, I was emailing Charlie. I asked him if he or anyone there knew of any resources I could go to for this whole experience. That talking to people who don't have this is different than someone who does. I had exhausted all of the forums or boards I found, and the couple blogs I came across were sparse or shut off. I was beginning to throw around the idea of documenting my 2 week recovery, maybe the whole experience, but Charlie pushed that further said maybe it was a calling of sorts. That maybe going through this, I was meant to create something to share with other patients with RD. To show them that all of the wild emotions and fears aren't wrong or stupid. That it's scary when you are presented in a situation where your vision could be compromised. Yes, thinking, "Oh my gosh, I can't imagine if I was told I'd lose my vision" is scary, but it's just that- you can only IMAGINE it. I could only imagine it prior to this. It wasn't until it actually happened that it was truly terrifying. It's just like any illness or disease. The thought of going through it is of course scary! Why wouldn't it be? But until it is YOU in the chair receiving the news, you have no idea. 

On January 14th, I began to try to plan this. What I would do. How I would do it. 

Details? I could share them. 

Emotions? I should share them.

Everything. I would just include everything. People know how to skim. If you don't want to read a paragraph, don't. But for those who do, it's here. I wish I had something like this to go to during my journey through this. Just to know that there are other people out there like me, having these thoughts, would have been so comforting. 

Empathy. I would receive it. And it was nice. But it wasn't the same as having someone say, "I KNOW what you are going through." So to any RD patients- I do know. And you can contact me anytime. I'll answer any questions or just listen. 

I was able to enjoy things more now, joke around. Ryan jokingly calls my surgery a vasectomy. I sure hope the O.R. doesn't make that mistake...

My eyes are almost even again. They're so close!

This is probably the other hard part. Eliminating the worry during the time leading up to this next surgery is number one. Number two is definitely seeing such a visible improvement, and knowing that in one week, my eye will be stretched back open and have needles and instruments poking it. I finally look in the mirror and see this:

Almost normal! Hardly any redness except under my eyelids
(so you can't see it anyway!)

Had I only needed the buckle surgery, I'd be almost back to normal. But alas, that is not the case. 

If I hadn't needed the second surgery though, I probably wouldn't be making this. So there's your silver lining. 

So I'm going to have a chair I have to sit in. And a "sleep system" that will have a hole for my face. And a travel block. I know you're all jealous of that. My neck doesn't have to hold up my heavy head (its all of the brains in there. Hmmm. that sounded better before I wrote it down, no one will believe that comment...).

This will be what I will deal with for TWO WEEKS.

Fancy!

One of my last fears was eliminated yesterday. Back in November when I had my bloodwork done, my white blood cells were slightly elevated. I wasn't sick, nothing was wrong, I thought. You try going through my day of diagnosis and then sitting in another doctor's office at 7 pm and then told your WBC are elevated. I'm sure you all know what happened next- I cried. I scared that doctor. He did not know what to do with me, sitting there sobbing over something he did not see people sob over. He wasn't super concerned about the level of 14, but to me, that was more of my world crumbling around me. What else could be wrong??!

I was supposed to have it rechecked. I didn't. I got sick, I couldn't drive myself. Then I was probably going to need another surgery and would need to get clearance again anyway so I pushed it off.

Well yesterday I sat nervously in the exam room again. Waiting for my bloodwork results. She had to poke my arm twice. Blew both veins. My arm is swollen and bruised today. 

This hurts...

"Your WBC count looks good, you're in normal range now. It's at 9.2 but that's consistent with you just having been sick."

FINALLY! I caught my break! The one I had been waiting so many weeks for. It happened.

So here I am. All caught up. I'm spending the next week getting ready for this and enjoying my time. VERTICAL.

Week 6: Changing my Mind

January 4, 2013 - January 10, 2013

Days 36 - 42: Getting the news. Again.

It was inevitable. There was so much riding on this appointment. But in my heart of hearts I knew what was going to happen. There hadn't been a change in my fluid level for weeks, and there was no sign that it was going anywhere. 

The days leading up to my appointment on January 10 came and went. And now I watched the clock all day on Thursday. Every hour that ticked by seemed to go faster than the last, and took me that much closer to what I knew what going to happen.

"Shallow...persistent...subretinal fluid."

Words I knew I'd hear but didn't want to. My heart sank. But not as far as I thought it would.

What I think was the best thing in my situation was that I had more time than last to prepare. Both prepare at home (there would be a lot I have to do) and to prepare emotionally and mentally. I had been doing that over the past week or so prior to the appointment, knowing that this appointment could inevitably end with my John Hancock on a paper that allows another person to stick surgical instruments in my eye. It helped a lot. 

We all talked in the exam room about the surgery for a long time. A vitrectomy. Three small instruments would be inserted via tunnels (that is NOT the technical term) that they insert in the white part of your eye. The small gauge needles are hollow and allow them to put the instruments they need in your eye. Two on one side, one on the other. They go in, take out the vitreous gel in my eye. They have to pull it off of my retina. This can cause more tears, and with my lattice, it can be even more risky. It can be fixed if it happens, so that's the good part. Once the vitreous is gone, he also sucks out all of the fluid that is left behind my retina, the stuff preventing it from laying flat. Being young, my vitreous is more like molasses rather than water (naturally as you age, your vitreous becomes more watery), so it may take longer in me than it would in a 70 year old patient to suck it all out. Once the fluid is completely gone, the doctor will ensure the retina is laying completely flat. He will then apply the laser to the detached area, and all of my areas of lattice. This will begin creating scar tissue to adhere it to the back of my eye. Once he is completely satisfied and has sealed all holes, a gas bubble is inserted in my eye. This fills a portion of my eye and requires a face down position for up to two weeks. Some gas bubbles dissipate quickly, but he thinks he will be using a longer acting gas that will take about two weeks to disappear. Laying face down keeps the bubble pressed against the retina, keeping it in place while the scar tissue forms. That's the surgery in a nut shell.

Every question I had was answered. (Patients- I recommend coming in with a list of questions. I swore to myself I'd always remember what I wanted to ask and I always forgot. This time I was prepared- I had a LIST. I had also done a lot of research prior to the appointment so that I could go in as educated as possible).

Countdown to surgery: January 23rd. GO.

Instead of having to rush off to Doctors Express for a physical for surgery clearance, I had almost 2 full weeks to prepare. 

I decided I couldn't change what happened. I couldn't change what was going to happen. But I COULD change how I reacted to it all.

I still had my moments of being upset and angry, but they were short-lived. 

I had to do this but I could control things more now. I wasn't being rushed out to surgery in two days. There was nothing stopping me from enjoying the time leading up to my next surgery. 

I went home feeling pretty good. It would all be okay. This was probably the first time I left the doctor's office and didn't have a nasty attitude or a look on my face like someone just stole my puppy. And we don't even have a puppy.

Here comes surgery preparation! 

Is anyone a masseuse out there? I'll be in a chair for 2 weeks that will put me in a position for a massage...

Vitrectomy Recovery Chair?
Or Massage Chair?