That was the song playing on the radio as I got into the Miata this morning. Dad took me back to the opthamologist for follow-up to yesterday’s surgery. When I went to bed last night my vision was slightly blurred and I was experiencing halos, especially as I turned off the lights in the livingroom and looked out the front window towards Gardner Road School. I taped my plastic patch to my eye and went to bed, unsure what things would be like this morning. What a surprise to wake up to peripheral vision, bright colors, and an expanded world from the one that had been closing in on me recently.
My experience at the surgical center was exceptional. Everything was run very efficiently, professionally, and with great care. Someone was attending to my needs every step of the way, from the warming blanket that covered me in the pre-op, to the warm hand that held mine through the surgery and informed the surgeon of any twinges of discomfort I had (which I had once, requiring an additionaly numbing drop to the eye). They referred to me as the youngster of the day, the average patient’s age being 70.
There were refreshments waiting in recovery, and an arm to lean on for the walk out – (you think you are under control, but the Valium really is). The last touch before we left, they handed me a violet in a little white basket…..
This morning the doctor said all went well. I have a slight bit of scar tissue that he was unable to remove, and that will be treated easily by laser after this healing is complete. The implanted lens, as tiny as it is, has the optical power to restore my vision for distances – I only need glasses to read. I picked up a cheap pair of reading glasses at Eckerds to hold me till my final measurements in two weeks (that was his suggestion).
I know cataract surgery is commonplace and taken for granted, but it has meant the world to me to have my sight restored, and I will be forever grateful that this was possible.