Me as Super Fly with Mac for back-up support
Today was Surgery Day and I was sooooo nervous. But having paid the fee the day before and not being one to lose a significant amount of money because of nerves, I had to go through with the procedure.
Jimmy took me to the surgery center at 8am for surgery that was supposed to start at 8:45. I had barely checked in when they told me to take off my jewelry and leave it with Jimmy and come on back. This was a good thing because there was no time to sit around and think about the lasers that were getting ready to burn my corneas up.
I realized very quickly that this was more serious than I expected. They made me change into scrubs, complete with that hairnet thing and booties to cover my feet. They'd said to wear comfortable clothes and so I assumed I'd just stay in my clothes and not actually look like I was going into surgery. (As a side note, the scrubs were very comfortable and pretty high-quality and I kind of wished they'd let me take them home.)
Next step was getting all these eye drops put in my eyes. Some were topical anesthetic (to which I said "double up the dose please") and some were antibiotic (or at least that's what I think she said). They took my blood pressure, which must have been normal despite the fact that I honestly felt like I couldn't breathe.
Then they escorted me back to the operating room. I saw Dr. A scrubbing in outside the room, just like he was on an episode of ER. He even had that little surgical hat thing on that George Clooney always wore and ripped off his head when something went wrong in the ER.
Where I got the idea that I was just going to be in street clothes, sitting in a opthalmaologist's chair, with Dr. A in his suit, wielding what looked like a dental pick, lasering up my eyes, I REALLY HAVE NO IDEA. None of what I saw looked like anything in my surgical daydreams.
This room was SERIOUS BUSINESS.
Like very medical and sterile and high-tech.
I asked before going in if I could listen to my iPod (on low volume, of course) because I really thought some Enya would relax me and I could practice deep breathing as if I were in a yoga class. (I'd already asked if I could take a Valium and Dr. A said no to that.) The nurse said no to the music, but assured me that I wouldn't need the music because they play ambient music in the operating room.
Let me tell you there was no Enya playing. It was this very futuristic, Star Wars sort of music that made me feel like I was in a science fiction movie.
I had to lay on this table with my head nestled into one of those things that you put in a baby's crib to keep him from rolling over in his sleep.
The instructions were simple: all I had to do was focus on the red blinking light, which was in the robot-like thing stationed over my head. If I had lifted my head up quickly, I would have busted my forehead open. I.WAS.TRAPPED.
Dr. A is so soothing and confident and keeps telling you that you're doing great and that everything's going perfectly that you feel a sense of peace.
But then he tapes your eyelashes open and puts this separator in your eye so it can't close or blink. And you know you're really trapped. And that your eyeball is getting ready to be burned. And that if you try to escape, you will likely require stitches in your forehead or at least have a bloody nose. And your eyeballs will be burned forever by the laser striking the wrong part because you moved.
You feel pressure on your eyeball, the laser starts, you smell burning, the blinking red light is suddenly splayed into a million blinking red lights and you think at that moment that your cornea is cut open, you stay very still then because you don't want to ruin anything at this critical moment, Dr. A dries out your eye, you feel him poking around the center of your eyeball and assume he's pressing it closed (or whatever you do to get that corneal flap to stay shut), and then he announces that one eye is done.
It seemed like it had hardly even started.
The second eye goes as smoothly and painlessly.
Dr. A announces that the surgery is all over and has gone perfectly. Your eyelids are taped shut, you get mini cups taped over your eyes for protection which means you can see nothing, and you realize how terribly awful it will be to be blind and you pray possibly harder than you've ever prayed for anything in your life that you're not blind when Dr. A takes off the bandages this afternoon. Your blood pressure is checked again and it must still be normal because they say you can leave. You're escorted to the dressing room where Jimmy helps you get dressed in your clothes because sadly they don't let you keep the scrubs. And then they send you home.
Just like that.
Not 10 minutes after the surgery is over, you're being led like a blind person to the car and you vow to yourself to give money to every blind panhandler you ever see again in the future. Being blind stinks.
You come home, lay on the couch for hours and doze off and on with the Food Network on in the background. You know that time is passing only because every time you wake up, you hear a new host's voice. Ruth keeps checking on you and keeps layering blankets on top of your slumbering body until you are not only blind but trapped under pounds of wool.
Finally it's time to go back to the doctor's office to get the bandages off for the moment of truth.
Jimmy came back from work to escort me to the doctor's office and since he didn't know where the entrance to the building was and he didn't understand my blind girl hand directions, we went all the way around the building for absolutely no reason. I learn quickly that wasted steps are a terrible thing to a blind person. And I know people are staring at my cupped eyes and wondering what terrible fate struck me. Which makes me even more self-conscious.
We entered Dr. A's office, he removed the patches, and I.COULD.SEE.
Like I could read his Emory University diploma from across the room.
What a miracle. What a marvel of modern medicine.
For renewed good eyesight and the kind, caring demeanor of a lovely doctor, I am truly thankful.
No comments:
Post a Comment