Site Update

Greetings!  It has been far too long since I have written an update here - my apologies.  I have decided to move my blog over to Wordpress, so please follow me to my NEW LOCATION: http://precioussight.wordpress.com.

I have published a lengthy update at my new Wordpress location, and I will be adding a few more updates over the next couple of weeks.  Hope to see you there!  Thanks for reading.

6 Months - Good News!!

I missed blogging on the official 6-month anniversary of my retina surgery, mainly because it came and went last week without much thought.  Today, however, I had a follow up appointment with my retina surgeon.  I was anxious all day, worrying about the worst, but as it turned out, the news was very, very good!

In short, my retina has healed so well that I NEVER (really, that's what my doc said) have to come back to see him.  Obviously, if I have any new symptoms or signs of another detachment, etc., I am to call him immediately, but this incident is basically behind me.  My retina is still attached, and the comparative scans between my left (post-detachment) eye versus my right ("good" eye) are almost indistinguishable.  That means my retina has, for the most part, healed back to normal.

Now, if I could just get rid of this cataract...  That's next, but I don't plan to do it for several months still.  I am optimistic, however, that once the cataract is removed, the vision in my left eye will improve dramatically.  Until then, it remains only partially useful.  It's good for big objects, light, etc., but I can hardly read anything with it unless I squint.

Structurally though, my eye is healthy.  My pressure is super normal.  My vision is stable, neither improving nor degrading.  There is some permanent damage to my lower peripheral vision, but my central vision and my left-right peripheral vision is in pretty good shape - or will be post-cataract removal.  I feel pretty confident that the worst is behind me.  I can't believe this started over six months ago, but all things considered, I am pretty relieved today.  I don't know what or who to credit, but I am thankful for the love and support of my family and friends, the skill and swift action of my doctors, and the mercy of God for answering so very many prayers that were said by me and so many others for me.  My gratitude is overwhelming.

5 months: The luxury of ignoring the problem

Well, I guess it would appear to most onlookers that my life is mostly back to normal, considering I have not had any "eye drama" about which to blog for the last two months.  In some ways this is true.  I work full time.  I drive my car.  I am even taking another sewing class this month, and with the help of an automatic threader, I am threading my own needles.  I am living my life the best I can, and I am thankful for the sight I still have.

Is my vision back to pre-RD surgery acuity?  No way!  This cataract is growing.  I am thankful it cannot really be seen by others who look at me, but it is beginning to really obscure my left eye.  I get headaches often, and covering my "bad eye" helps alleviate them immediately.  Due to the poor coverage of my insurance, I am putting off the cataract surgery for as long as possible.  I am engaged to be married in October, and my fiance's insurance will make this surgery much more affordable.

Besides, one of the scary potential side effects of a cataract surgery is a detached retina.  I do not want to risk suffering that side effect before our wedding.  As it is, five whole months after my vitrectomy and gas bubble surgery, my pupil is still not quite back to normal, but it is getting less noticable.  If possible, I hope to avoid repeating that surgery and restarting the recovery process - at all, but especially before our wedding!  I know it is vain, but I am not paying a professional photographer to capture my eye in a grusome condition.  With five months to go until our wedding day, I am hopeful this RD surgery and aftermath will be undetectable in our wedding photos.

In general, I am trying to ignore the cataract and just live my life as though everything is normal.  I wish I had the sharpness and contrast with my RD eye that I do my "normal" eye, and though I really cannot help thinking about that deficiency every single day, I rarely allow myself to dwell on it.  Now, those thoughts are fleeting.  They come when I feel a headache coming on or when I have to squint to see something, but generally, I have adapted well and get by without having to give it very much thought at all.  Considering where I was five months ago, I have come a very long way! 

3-month anniversary - It's not fair!

Today is February 18, exactly 3 months since my surgery on November 18.   I am home from work today (due to a furlough at City Hall, where I work as a city planner), and the dreary weather today looks just like it did when I was home during my long face-down recovery.  In a strange way, it feels like no time has passed.  Being home today, with the familiar chill in the air and the sound of the rain pouring through the downspouts, brings back a lot of insecurities.  Most days lately, I prefer to dwell on how far I have come, how much my vision has improved, etc.  Today, though, I can't help but indulge that unproductive worry that still nags me.  Will I ever be the same?  Will I ever fully recover?

In a prior post, I explored the "will to be 'normal,'" which is really just a way of accepting change by reframing what "normal" is.  I can't see as well as I used to, but I get by.  It is probably more healthy to dwell on the positive, to appreciate what I can see, what I can do.  Still, some days, I can't help but long for pre-surgery normal.

I want to go back to seeing the world through both eyes.  I have worn glasses and/or contacts since second grade, so I have always had a sense to appreciate my vision.  The older I got, the stronger my prescriptions became.  I knew my eyes were "bad" when they no longer made off-the-shelf, soft contact lenses in a power strong enough to correct me, so when I discovered custom gas permeable contact lenses, I appreciated them immensely.  Contact lenses, whether soft or gas permeable, give you your peripheral vision back in a way that glasses just cannot.  I have always appreciated them for that.  Being able to see the world crisply is a blessing that I think I rarely took for granted, and now, I miss it deeply.

I think the growth of the cataract in my left eye is accelerating, but it's hard to measure.  I try to ignore the haze and rely on my unobscured right eye to sort of make up the difference, and most of the time, that works for me.  Today, I'm just really tired of it.  I want my eyes to be normal again -- normal-normal, not "new normal."  It seems like 3 months should be enough time to recover, but the reality is that my vision will get worse before it gets better.  This cataract will have to grow before it is considered "medically necessary" (i.e. covered by insurance) to remove, and then I will have to accept the risk of side effects (e.g. another retina detachment) to have the cataract surgery.  Hopefully then it will be over.  Hopefully.  Please.  Seriously.

And the issues of vanity just won't disappear.  I am thankful to be wearing eye make up again, but I worry my left pupil will never go back to normal.  It seems permanently dilated now.  It's probably 3 times the size of my right eye, and it never quite contracts in the sunlight.  I hate how it looks in pictures, and I hate the idea of paying a professional photographer to capture it that way for our wedding photos and engagement shoot.  I keep waiting, hoping, praying it will go back to normal, but as more time passes, I have a sinking feeling that it might not.  I have read some people saw improvement in this condition over 6 months, so I guess I can give it another 3 months of waiting and hoping and praying.  Right now though, I just feel defeated about it.

Why did this happen?  Why do I deserve this?  Why did I have to have this heinous surgery?  Why did it have to take away from me the only feature on my face I ever thought was pretty?  Why are grown-ups not allowed to exclaim, "It's not fair!?"  It just isn't.  Debatably, fairness applies to crime and punishment, but it does not apply to health, not always.  People who smoke may get lung cancer, and that might be "fair."  People who perform risky stunts sometimes fail and break bones, and that might be "fair."  But what is fair about congenital heart defects or childhood leukemia?  I know a retina detachment, by comparison, is hardly so dramatic.  No one dies from partial blindness, but it absolutely impacts one's quality of life adversely.  And nothing about it feels "fair."  I am 30 years old, and I fear my vision is forever changed.  It doesn't feel fair.

Maybe tomorrow I'll regain those positive "everything is going to be OK" feelings, but today I am wallowing in self-pity.  I feel entitled to it once in a while, and a dreary winter day feels like just as good a time as any.  Thanks for letting me indulge.

And...exhale!

My last appointment with my retina surgeon was about 2.5 weeks ago, and I was thankful to learn that my surgeon was "99.9%" confident that my left retina would not detach again.  This is a HUGE success for my vitrectomy and scleral buckle!  Rather than breathe a full sigh of relief, however, I also learned that there was more lattice degeneration in my right eye which would require a laser treatment to reinforce the weak spots.  Today was the dreaded (oh, and I really did dread it!) day of the laser treatment, and it turns out, the worst of it was my anxiety!

Last night, I was in tears, again.  I'm a crybaby.  I cry at movies, but I cry uncontrollably when I feel like my vision is vulnerable.  Rationally, I understood the purpose of the laser treatment was to prevent a retina detachment in my right eye, but irrationally, I can't help but want to shield my "good eye" from any procedures.  Sure, my left retina (surgery eye) is still attached, and my vision has mostly returned, except for the cloudiness of the cataract.  Still, my left eye is not so useful on its own.  I need my "good eye" (right eye) to keep seeing 20/20 (corrected, of course - without contacts or glasses, I can't see the lines in my own palm more than a foot away from my face).  The idea of putting lasers in my good eye just paralyzed me last night.  I stalled on going to bed and made myself sick with anxiety.

After sleeping on it, I felt better this morning, but the closer it got to my appointment time, the more the butterflies danced in my stomach.  We were early for my appointment, and since the doctors were running behind, we were in the waiting room just over an hour.  My anxiety was rising with every minute, so by the time the tech gave me the scary waiver to sign, acknowledging the procedure could result in some vision loss, I couldn't help but tear up.  At least I didn't start sobbing like I did when I signed the waiver for my RD surgery for my left eye!

After more waiting, my surgeon finally came into the "Procedure Room."  (Really, the sign said "Procedure Room," like that made me feel more at ease!)  I am so thankful for Dr. Sharma's patient and calm demeanor.  He explained what he was going to do, how it would feel, and how long it would take.  I was still nervous, but I was empowered with knowledge.  I said a quick prayer, asking for God to give me the strength to just sit still and not cry and trust that He would use my doctor to heal my eye.  Though it was uncomfortable, it took less than 5 minutes.  My vision was blurry but useful enough to send a quick text message to my fiancé to let him know it was all over.  I was so thankful - thankful the procedure was done but even more thankful that my vision was useful so soon after.  I go back in 3 months for a follow up appointment, but tonight, I feel like I can finally exhale.  My left eye is "99.9%" strong, and with this laser treatment, my right eye should be just as strong.  I am hopeful the worst is finally behind me.

Improve health in general --> Improve eye health

Since the beginning of the year, I have joined Weight Watchers (WW) and started exercising again.  I am re-committed to getting healthy in 2011 and beyond, and now that a month has passed, I am feeling great!  I can't give this whole eye situation all the credit, but it definitely has influenced my new healthy lifestyle.  My other motivation is, of course, my upcoming wedding in October.  The whole white dress tradition can be rather unflattering for super chubby brides, and because I have already admitted how vain I am, I feel no shame in sharing that I refuse to feel apologetically and shamefully fat on my wedding day.

I have been working really hard, tracking everything I eat, tallying the WW points, working out at home or at the gym, and just generally trying to take care of myself.  The results are already showing.  I have dropped almost 15 pounds and a whole pants size.  I feel in control again.  My mood is better - generally happier and more hopeful.

Originally, I began this blog about my journey back to eye health, but it seems appropriate to me to expand that purpose.  Through this experience, I have realized that good health is one of the most fundamentals contributors to one's quality of life.  I know it is not an original epiphany, but health is the kind of thing you take for granted when you are young and healthy.  Then, health erodes, little by little over time, at a rate so slow you don't notice it happening until something big happens - for me, something like a detached retina.

I will never really know the cause of my detached retina.  I could probably just leave the blame with my high myopia, but the more I read, the more I think my own negligence may have had a hand in it.  I have not been diagnosed with diabetes, but it runs in my family, and at my weight, I am especially at risk.  In addition, I have a condition called Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS).  PCOS is a complicated syndrome, and it affects each woman who has it differently.  For me, and many others, it has resulted in a type of insulin resistance that looks a lot like diabetes.  In November, I even began taking Metformin to help regulate my blood sugar.  I had fasting lab work done this week, and my fasting glucose levels were high - not full-on diabetic range but probably in the pre-diabetes range.  I am at a crossroads - do nothing and accept an inevitable diabetes diagnosis OR fight like hell to lose this weight and reclaim control of my health and my body.  I am choosing the latter.

Diabetes is terrifying to me for a lot of reasons.  I am a foodie and a baker, and giving up sweet indulgences makes me sad.  (Of course, I know the key is moderation, but diabetics are forced to redefine moderation as it relates to sweets.)  Beyond the food restrictions, I have learned about diabetic retinopathy, and I wanted to post about it here.

According to the American Optometric Association (AOA):

Diabetic retinopathy is a condition occurring in persons with diabetes, which causes progressive damage to the retina, the light sensitive lining at the back of the eye. It is a serious sight-threatening complication of diabetes. 

Diabetes is a disease that interferes with the body's ability to use and store sugar, which can cause many health problems. Too much sugar in the blood can cause damage throughout the body, including the eyes. Over time, diabetes affects the circulatory system of the retina. 

Diabetic retinopathy is the result of damage to the tiny blood vessels that nourish the retina. They leak blood and other fluids that cause swelling of retinal tissue and clouding of vision. The condition usually affects both eyes. The longer a person has diabetes, the more likely they will develop diabetic retinopathy. If left untreated, diabetic retinopathy can cause blindness.

Source: http://www.aoa.org/diabetic-retinopathy.xml

Of course, I already knew diabetes is bad, but I did not know how it could affect eye health.  Knowledge is power, and for me, knowledge is serving as another motivational tool to keep me on track with my diet and exercise routine.  Losing weight is not just about vanity anymore.  It is about returning my body to good health, avoiding diabetes, and by extension, maintaining retina health.  The human body is an amazing machine with so many systems interrelated.  If you value your vision and eye health, you should do what you can to make your whole self healthy.  I wish I had this much perspective throughout my twenties, but better now than never.

Good news about billing!

As with most things in my life, my healthcare decisions cannot be approached as though money is no object.  With regard to my doctor's recommendation yesterday to schedule more laser treatment for the lattice degeneration in my right eye, one of my first reactions was, "Well, how much is this gonna cost me?"  That is, by no means, meant to be disrespectful to my doctor for his recommendation.  Rather, it is a very practical question, considering I have a rather daunting balance due to Kaiser for the successful victrectomy and scleral buckle surgery that was performed on my left eye to correct the retinal detachment.

Not wanting to wreck the good news from yesterday, I waited until today to inquire about the cost of the laser treatment for my right eye.  I am very pleased to report that my cost for this procedure will only be a simple co-pay!  (Granted, my co-pays are pretty pricey at $40 per visit.)  Since this is an outpatient procedure that can be done within a normal office visit, I will incur no additional costs beyond my ordinary co-pay.  This is surprising but wonderful news!

It is troubling to me how my earliest reactions to this lattice degeneration were so heavily influenced by financial concerns, rather than healthcare concerns.  Our bodies do not understand cash flow or debt, and they demand care, without regard to financial considerations.  I am thankful Kaiser understands this and is allowing me to repay my surgery debt over time.  It would be extra outstanding if my future care would not put me further into debt.  However, with that said, precious sight is almost priceless, and I admit I am tightly wrapped around the proverbial finger of my very demanding eyes.  While money is very much "an object" in my life, I cannot let it wholly influence my healthcare decisions.  Fortunately, this time I do not have to worry about it at all.  This is a great relief - and a great blessing!

Doc said, "99.9%!"

I had a follow up appointment with my retina surgeon this afternoon, and I spent all weekend anxious and obsessing over what the "flashes" I started noticing recently meant.  They seem to occur only when my eyes are closed and only in a dark room.  Still, I assumed the worst, and I braced myself for bad news.  I never lost my sense of hope and continued to pray, but I had this nagging pit of doom in my gut.

Happily, I can report that my "gut" was wrong this time!  My doctor ordered an imaging procedure for both eyes to thoroughly evaluate and record my condition.  He said my surgery eye looks very good, and he even said that he was "99.9%" sure that my retina will not detach from that eye again - yes, 99.9%!  Wow!  This is absolutely WONDERFUL news!  Of course, I am left with a cataract for which the surgery to remove it would be considered "elective," but considering where I was two months ago, a cataract is nothing over which to fret!

Tempering the excellent news, of course, was the unexpected.  My right eye, which I consider my "good eye," needs a little patch job (my words, not my surgeon's) for more lattice degeneration.  Fortunately, this is a procedure that can be done in the clinic, so I will not need to be admitted to the hospital.  I am also supposed to be able to go back to work the next day.  Obviously, this is immeasurably easier than the vitrectomy I endured for my left eye, so I should be happy.  If this treatment will prevent a detached retina in my right eye, of course that would be wonderful.  I just had hoped not to need any procedures for my "good eye."  However, I shall not be greedy.  I shall dutifully report back in two weeks for the laser procedure, and I will follow any instructions given to me.  I don't fool around with my vision.

So, my next steps are:
1. Laser treatment to right eye for lattice degeneration.
2. Meeting with cornea specialist about my cataract "options" for my left eye.
3. Figure out what all this will cost me through my high deductible insurance plan.

Sadly, it's the latter that troubles me the most.  The cost of healthcare is scary, even with insurance!  But, it's worth it, and I am thankful to live in a place where this type of healthcare is available, even if it does nearly bankrupt me.  (Thankfully, Kaiser takes payment plans!)

Overall, the news was very good today.  It is a relief to be "out of the woods" on my left eye, and the laser treatment for my right eye, while probably costly, should prevent a detachment in my "good eye."  There is still hope for a full recovery yet!

I cannot thank God enough for answering so many prayers, and I cannot thank my family and friends enough for bugging God with so many prayers about me.  Today is a day of gratitude!

Ding dong the bubble's gone... the wicked bubble's gone!

My gas bubble has been shrinking all week, and overnight it FINALLY disappeared!  This was the first morning I woke up without a weird bubble in my field of vision since the middle of November!  Regaining my full field of vision is awesome, but what's more awesome, I think, is being able to lie on my back again!  I have always been a side sleeper, but I really miss stretching out on my back before rolling over to sleep.

I am a cautious patient, however, and as such, I am nervous to consider the gas bubble gone until my doctor confirms it.  (Who knows? Maybe there is some residual I cannot detect with my own eyes.)  My next appointment is January 31, which is a little over a week away.  If he confirms I'm all clear, I'll officially be able to lie on my back AND travel over 3,000 feet!  OMG, Lake Tahoe, here I come!  I don't ski, but I do like to make it up to see the snow at least once a year.

Sure, I still have this cataract clouding my vision, but underneath that, I feel pretty confident my retina is healing as well as I could have hoped.  Today, I am thankful for this progress!  I'll worry about that cataract another day.  :)

My two-month anniversary

Not much new to report today, but I noticed today is January 18th.  Since my surgery was on November 18th, that makes today my "two-month anniversary."  I have definitely come a long way since the vicodin, eye patch, and face down equipment!  It is crazy to think, though, that I have not been able to lay on my back in two months!  I'm hoping my gas bubble will go away by February and my doctor will give me the thumbs up to stretch out on my back.  It's odd to crave a particular stretch, but I really do.  In general, though, things are lookin' up - no pun intended.  I hope things are EVEN better for my three-month anniversary!  :)

Tiny bubbles... in my eye

It has been almost 9 weeks since my surgery, and no, I'm still not "better."  Well, I guess I am better than I was when my retina was detached, but when people ask, "Are you all 'better' now?," I think they usually mean, "You're back to normal, right?"  Normal is relative, as I have explained in previous posts.  I am back to work, back to driving, back to wearing my contact lenses, and in most ways, back to doing the things I did before my surgery... well, you know, everything except seeing 20/20.  Still, seeing well in one eye (or at all, really) is a blessing for which I remain thankful, and I am more and more hopeful for a full recovery as time goes on.

Lately, I have been experiencing the breaking up of the gas bubble in my eye.  The main bubble is shrinking in size, and as it does, smaller bubbles break off.  At first, the "friend" bubbles, as I call them, are the size of pin pricks, but they usually grow into a pencil eraser top size.  They tend to circle the main bubble like moons orbiting a planet, and when I tip my head side to side, I can make them move.  It's bizarre and fascinating and sometimes distracting, but I take it be a very good sign of progress.  Eventually, often in my sleep, these friend bubbles go away, and I am left with the ever shrinking main bubble, which is breaking up, getting smaller, and on its way to dissipating altogether.  I look forward to the morning I wake up to find it gone.

I have not updated my blog since Christmas Eve, and I am happy to report my spirits are much better than they were at the end of last year.  With this bubble shrinking, I finally feel like I am "on the other side" of this thing.  Sure, I will have to decide when to have a cataract surgery at some point in the future, but right now, I am getting along with the vision I have.  Feeling like I have some control over my care (i.e. when to have my next surgery) is empowering.  If only I had control over the recovery.  Patience and adaptability remain the keys to my sanity through this recovery... well, patience, adaptability, and a lot of prayers.  Thanks to all those who have and who continue to pray for my recovery.

My next follow up with the retina ophthalmologist is January 31.  I hope to have good news to share with you that day.  In the mean time, I will continue to live the best way I can.

Christmas gratitude

I am so, so, so thankful to be baking on Christmas Eve!  I was "face down" over Thanksgiving, and while my family pinch hit for me in the kitchen, I really missed preparing the meals - especially making the pies.  I love cooking for my family, especially during the holidays, and I am just filled with gratitude that I am able to do it this Christmas.

While my surgery eye is still impaired, I am managing to work around it.  I don't know if my brain has adapted to relying on my good eye, or maybe my surgery eye is more useful than I think.  Either way, I have been able to complete a simple sewing project and a few other crafty Christmas gifts, and I am back in the kitchen.  It makes me so happy!

Yesterday, I took my first solo drive!  It was wonderful and empowering and a little scary.  Mostly, I just appreciate feeling capable and independent again.  In California, cars unlock the world, and my little piece of the world is expanding again.

Every day is getting better.  The gas bubble is shrinking, and my field of vision is increasing.  My vision outside the gas bubble is a bit cloudy (and will probably get more cloudy as my cataract develops) and still quite blurry, but it is good enough to have some basic peripheral vision.  It's harder to sneak up on me, and that helps me feel safer in public and capable of driving.  My vision is certainly not perfect, but I relish the progress.

I pray every day for continued healing, and I know many people have been praying for me all along.  I am filled with gratitude for answered prayers.  I feel extremely blessed on this Christmas for having such wonderful people in my life, and I am encouraged by the positive changes in my vision.  This is a very Merry Christmas in my life, and I hope it will be for you as well.

A driving milestone and philanthropy for vision causes

Today, I drove Ernie and myself to work.  It was nice for my confidence to have him as a passenger, just in case I needed help merging or whatever, but I managed just fine.  My gas bubble has shrunk enough to see the dashboard while I look straight ahead, and I have basic peripheral vision back in my left eye - or at least enough to see if a car is approaching on the left side.  While my vision is still pretty blurry in my left (surgery) eye, my vision is good enough in my right eye to safely be out on the road, and my doctor did officially clear me to drive at my appointment last week.  Though I still intend to limit my night driving, it feels good to regain some of my independence, and like a 16-year-old who just got her license, I find myself creating errands for which driving is necessary to accomplish.

These past five weeks have given me a glimpse of some of the challenges people with limited vision face, and I feel compelled to find a way to help them.  After doing some research online, I found the Sacramento Society for the Blind.  I plan to let myself heal a bit more, but soon, I would like to reach out to them and see if there are any volunteer opportunities that may be a match to my skills and availability.

I have also discovered that the Lions Club International has taken the prevention of blindness on as one its core missions.  Specifically, their SightFirst program's mission is "to build eye care systems in underserved communities to fight blindness and vision loss and assist blind and visually impaired persons."  I think this is absolutely wonderful, and I wonder why I did not know about this until now.  This is another cause for which I would like to become involved.

I have been reminded through comments on my previous blog posts about how blessed I am to live in a country with advanced health care systems and to have the means to afford access to this care.  It easy to take such things for granted when wallowing in self pity during a crisis, but now, while I am more confidently on the mend, I am extra thankful.  Even before my retina detachment, I have often wondered what my life would have been like even a hundred years ago with my extreme myopia and astigmatism.  My glasses would have been coke bottles, and any thoughts of vanity would have been futile.  Today, even my "thick" lenses are relatively thin, and they have done amazing things with gas permeable contact lenses that allowed me to see crisply without glasses at all.  I am thankful to live in a place and time where these technologies exist, not to mention retina specialists and hospitals to conduct such delicate surgeries.  The Lion's Clubs' SightFirst program envisions a world where such access is universal around the world.  To the extent that we can save people from blindness anywhere in the world, we should endeavor to try.

I so appreciate the vision I have now and the vision I still hope to regain, and driving to work today, I felt a lot of hope.  Independence is something most adults take for granted... until their own independence is compromised.  If there is a way I can help other people who have suffered vision loss feel more confident and independent, I want to take it on.

The will to be "normal"

It has taken me a while to realize that feeling "normal" after a retina detachment requires adjusting my own expectations of what "normal" is.  Sure, some things are harder to do now, but a lot of things are still manageable.  Sure, it can be scary at times, but it is better to be hopeful.  That is not to say that one should stifle one's fears, but one should not wallow in them, at least not for long.  Being alive is something for which to be grateful, and we should endeavor to life joyfully as much as possible.

This past weekend was my best weekend since my surgery.  This makes sense, of course, because it takes time to heal.  Still, I was able to do some "normal" things that made me feel like life is not closed to me.  My fiancé and I went to the movies on Friday night.  I wore my glasses, as I can see a bit over the shrinking gas bubble now.  The vision in my surgery eye is by no means sharp, but I can see shapes and faces on the giant movie screen.  I would struggle to keep up with a subtitled film, but thankfully, Hollywood blockbusters rarely ask for its audiences to read.  While I am a drama/chick flick kind of gal, I was surprised to enjoy The Fighter.  It was tricky to negotiate the theater stairs in low light, but that's what handrails are for.  In all, it was a good experience for me to be in public, enjoying a normal activity, and not feeling entirely impaired.  Would it have been better if I had crisp vision out of  both eyes?  Of course, but that isn't my normal.  My normal is going out into the world, having dinner at a restaurant, and enjoying a movie with fiancé.  I am lucky to be able to enjoy a little "date night" with the man I adore.

We finished our Christmas shopping over the weekend, too.  We split up for a few minutes in the store, and while I had some anxiety to shop alone, I felt my confidence rise a bit.  I feel vulnerable on my left side still, but I know to be careful when I turn around.  I didn't knock anything over.  I didn't run into anyone.  It is harder to read labels now, and I have trouble seeing the department signs over the aisles.  Those challenges did not keep me from getting my shopping done.  Would it have been easier if I had better vision?  Of course, but my normal includes asking for help.  It really isn't so hard to ask, "Where is your housewares department?"  I can still walk, "straight down this aisle and to the left."

I even worked on a sewing project this weekend.  I admit this was the most challenging endeavor I took on, and my impaired vision really did make things more difficult.  I stuck myself with the pins enough to bleed on quite a few occasions, but I got it done.  Threading the needle was hard, but I took my time.  My sewing machine was skipping stitches, but that no fault of my eyes.  I may not be able to complete a very intricate sewing project, but I can make progress on simple ones.  (I would tell you what my project it, but it is a Christmas present and still a surprise.)

In general, I had a very good weekend.  I napped a lot and rested my eyes when I needed to, but I got a lot of things done.  It was the first weekend I have had in a month where I felt capable.  This is an empowering feeling and one on which I hope to build as I recover.  Many people have assured me that things will get better, and indeed, they are improving.  I am so very thankful and encouraged.

1 month follow up

It has been a whole month since my surgery, and the recovery is in full swing.  I returned to see my surgeon for a follow up visit yesterday, and I am happy to report that my retinas are both still attached.  While I am not "out of the woods," as he put it, until the gas bubble completely dissolves, it is a very good sign that no scar tissue has formed "yet" (again, his word) and that my retinas seem to be holding in place.  This is excellent news!

Of course, these days, good news always seems to be dampened a bit by reality, and yesterday was no exception.  While my retinas are holding on, my doctor confirmed that a cataract is already forming on my surgery eye.  Cataracts can be removed surgically, so I know there is at least one more eye surgery in my fate, though I don't know when it will be.  First, we have to wait for the gas bubble to go away and make sure the retinas are still attached.  Then, I can see a cornea specialist to talk about how and when to deal with the cataract.

Yesterday, I was an emotional mess about it, but today I am feeling a lot more calm.  Worrying about things, especially those that are out of my control, certainly does not help me, so I am trying to just take things as they come.  We will figure out what to do about the cataract when it is time.  Meanwhile, I am going to try not to stress myself out.  (This is easier said than done for someone like me who wants to plan every detail, but I really am trying.)

Besides, cataract surgery is fairly routine, and the outcomes are usually very good.  In fact, when they remove a cataract, they remove the entire lens and replace it with a new one.  The new one usually has a prescription that actually improves your vision to better than it was before the cataract formed.  In the long run, I am hopeful this will be a very positive outcome.

The hardest part, besides the poor vision, is the uncertainty, but this is my reality now.  Without even realizing it until today, I am somewhere in the middling of grieving the end, or at least the extended suspension, of my normal, pre-surgery life.  I have a new normal now, and it includes doctors and surgeons and lots of eye drops.  It takes me twice as long to do simple things, like writing a check or threading a needle or trimming my own fingernails.  I was really angry about this for a while, but I am starting to realize that the anger is really wasted energy.  It is much better for me to focus on adapting and learning how to do the things I used to do in new ways.  I feel like I have lost the last month of my life, waiting to be normal again, but it is time to start living again.  I am sure this is not the real end of my anger or frustration, but I hope I am turning a corner.  I am alive, and the best way to live is happily and hopefully.

Depression and meeting expectations

I went back to work on Monday, and I made it through my first three days back.  As Murphy's Law would have it, I developed a mild sore throat and the sniffles just in time for my return, so on top of the anxiety about my "weird eye" and how my limited vision would affect my ability to work, I was feeling the usual lethargy and grumpiness that most people I know experience when they have a cold.  It was a bad emotional combination, and I did not have much energy or will to hide it.

Many people asked me how I was doing, and probably most of them were even genuinely interested.  Still, I couldn't help but cringe every time I was asked.  I know what they want to hear.  They want to hear that I'm better and happy to be back, but the truth is I am only a little bit better and would rather be home where I can mope in peace with my dogs.

I can't seem to shake this depression.  Absolutely nothing is as good as it used to be.  Everything I do is harder now - or at least different.  Nothing looks the same.  Writing out Christmas cards was a challenge, but I sucked it up and got it done, despite my new, sloppier handwriting that accompanied this vision loss.  Grocery shopping is embarrassing because I either have to wear my eye patch or endure the headaches of the overhead fluorescent lights, but I have to do it because we need food.  I can't drive yet, so I am a constant passenger, beholden to the generosity (and I am sincerely appreciative of it!) and schedules of those who are willing to help me.  Of course I am thankful to have the help, but I can't shake the bitterness that I need the help.  I hate having to ask for a ride somewhere.  I haven't had to ask for a ride since I was 15, before I had a driver's license.  Now, I am dependent, and while no one wants to admit it, I am also a burden.  I hate these feelings most of all.

I feel like I owe it to people to try to be cheerful.  No one wants to be around someone who is down all the time.  I just really don't know how to shake the constant fear and anger and disappointment I am feeling.  I am still angry that all this is happening.  I know it is nobody's fault that my extremely myopic eye finally gave out, but that doesn't matter because it still makes me angry.  I am angry my optometrist did not catch any early warning signs in my fairly recent eye exam.  I am angry I chose the Kaiser plan with a deductible because now the medical bills are starting to pile up.  I am angry that my vision is still so impaired a whole month after my surgery.  I am angry I had to have surgery in the first place!  I just can't believe there was not a way to prevent this!  If I could have seen a retinal specialist sooner, maybe this whole ordeal could have been avoided, but how was I to know I should seek the attention of a retinal ophthalmologist?

While easier said than done, the anger is something I know I really need to let go, but the fear is what grips me the most.  I fear that my vision may never fully restore in my surgery eye.  I fear that my surgery was not fully successful or that I suffer another retina detachment because I fear going through another 10 days with my face down.  I fear my good eye will suffer the same retinal detachment.  I fear going blind and becoming a permanent burden.  These are not dramatic fears.  These are real fears.  Real people suffer in all these ways, and I know that I am fundamentally no better than they are.  No one deserves to live this way, but it happens. What makes me immune?  Sadly, nothing.

When I was younger, I never really understood suffering.  I remember going to church with my parents, and the elderly folks would talk about "leaving this body behind."  At the time, I could not imagine why one would want to, but now I understand how your body can become a burden.  I am trying to remember that I am more than my body.  I am more than my limitations.  I want to be myself again - happy, funny, hopeful, and maybe just a bit naive.  I want to not have to worry about something so simple as my sight, but I think I may never again have that luxury.

I have a follow up appointment with my surgeon tomorrow.  I hope and pray for good news.  I need to hear good news.  Really, some good news is all I want for Christmas.  I don't need fancy electronics or shiny things.  I just need some reassurance that maybe things really will be OK again.  I need some news that will calm some of my fears and extinguish this anger.  As much as I need this, my family needs this because my family needs me to be me again.  As emotional as this is and has been for me, I know it continues to take its toll on them.  They share my fears, and I know they miss the less touchy, less mopey version of myself that I used to be before all this happened.  For their sake, as much as mine, I am praying tonight for a good outcome.

The virtues of an eye patch

I finally broke down and bought an eye patch tonight. It's black, like a classic pirate patch, because that is apparently the only option available at any major drugstore. You can buy fashion designs online, but I refuse to make such an investment because I hope the patch will be a temporary accessory for me.  Besides, if I get a crafty urge, I could adorn the black one.

In terms of vision, the patch is an amazing help.  It seems ironic that covering one eye would improve one's overall vision, but when your patch eye distorts light and shapes, sometimes it is best to just eliminate the distraction.  For vanity's sake, I prefer to be patchless most of the time, but car travel at night gives me headaches.  I guess it is the stark contrast between the darkness of night and the distorted glare of the street lights and car head lights that gives me trouble, but I know for sure that the moment I put the patch on, my headache eased and my good eye was able to focus.  Of course, it was not as good as having two good eyes because my patched eye provided no peripheral vision, but it was a bit liberating to be able to travel without a constant headache.

When we left the house this evening, our only goal was to take the dogs for a drive, pick up a drive-thru dinner (really healthy, I know), and look at some Christmas lights.  For these activities, wearing an eye patch was not terribly embarrassing.  I caught a few people double taking at stop lights, but it did not bother me too much.  I can tell you, though, I will do everything I can to avoid wearing that patch in an actual social setting.

The elastic strap that holds the patch in place did not agree with my forehead.  When the strap began digging in, which was almost immediately, I fiddled with it.  I tried guiding it up, down, over my ear, behind my ear, etc.  No matter what I did, that strap was going to dig into my forehead.  After a while, I gave up and just let it be.  That was probably the best strategy for our driving (well, my "passengering," if I may use this made up term) activities, but if we had a social event at which to arrive, I probably would have been as embarrassed by the indentations left behind the patch and its strap as I would have been by wearing the patch itself.

The eye patch is not a perfect solution, but it is a reasonable way to cope with the glare that the gas bubble in my eye seems to embellish.  I hope that this glare will subside once the gas bubble shrinks completely.  I will add it to the list of "we'll see" outcomes.

Rekindled fear of the dark

In my late teens, I think, I took a women's self defense class with my mom and older sister.  The number one thing I learned in that class was: always be aware of your surroundings.  That means: look around, search shadows, look over your shoulder if you hear a noise, etc.  This has become second nature to me.  Generally, I have been a pretty independent woman.  Though I do not anymore, I have lived alone for many years.  I have taken care of a lot of business under the cover of darkness, and while I have probably been more fearless in some circumstances than I should have, I have prided myself on my ability to take care of myself without much help.

These days, post surgery, I am afraid to take the trash out by myself - even in broad daylight, but especially after dark.  It's not terribly rational because I live in a house in a relatively safe suburban neighborhood.  My trash cans are behind a fence, and the likelihood of a stranger being in my side yard is extremely low.  Still, I can literally feel my pulse race when I go outside by myself.  My lack of peripheral vision has crippled my sense of independence, which is so much worse than the simple loss of vision itself, especially to a person who has worked so hard to become so independent.

It is amazing how fear inhibits us.  Whether the fear is rational or not, the grips of fear can be very limiting.  I am blessed to still have good vision with one eye, and I do have hope that my left eye will heal to give me some kind of competent vision, even if it is never as good as it once was.  As I remind myself of these blessings, I imagine what it must be like for someone to lose vision in both eyes, and I just cannot fathom it.  I pray I never find myself in such in a circumstance.

Recently, the news ran a story about a blind man who is completely independent, with the help of his guide dog, and he travels the world for work.  Can you imagine?  I am scared to take my trash out, behind a fence, with one good eye, but this blind man navigates airports and new cities, seemingly without fear.  I like to reflect on this to give myself perspective on the challenges I am facing.  Certainly, I am limited by my condition, but there are many people who do more with less than I have.  I think this is a lesson anyone can appreciate.  Perspective matters so much!

Anxiety about returning to work

I just called my doctor's office to request a work release letter.  Since this is my third week after surgery, I think I should be able to return to work on Monday, but of course, I will wait to hear back from my doctor to confirm this.

Meanwhile, I am sorting through the anxiety of returning to my normal work life.  I expect everyone will be very welcoming, and I am looking forward to seeing my work friends again. I even miss the actual work.  It's hard to feel very productive at home, especially as I respect the doctor's orders to "take it easy."  I miss feeling accomplished.  I miss feeling "normal."

I am a city planner, which is mostly a desk job.  I read a lot, especially the zoning code and other such regulatory documents.  I review site plans and building plans.  I spend a lot of time on my computer writing reports.  I feel fairly confident that I will be able to resume these duties.  I worry a bit about headaches and the trouble I may have seeing well with only one eye.  As my surgery eye improves and the gas bubble shrinks, I am gaining sight in my left eye, which sounds like it would be a good thing.  Of course, in the long run, it is, but in the short term, I can tell it will cause headaches.  I am not a doctor, but I know that having a wide difference between visual acuity in the eyes can cause strain.

Even over the past few days, I have noticed that television watching is causing mild headaches, and I am becoming sensitive to light.  That is not to say that I prefer a perfectly dark or perfectly bright room, but depending on where the lamp or other light source is located, it can cause strange reflections off the gas bubble and give objects a strange halo.  Actually, I am not sure I am describing this experience well, but suffice it to say that the gas bubble continues to trouble me and I worry how I will do adjusting to my work environment.

However, my anxiety about what I look like is probably at least as high as my anxiety about visual performance and headaches.  Perhaps I should be embarrassed to be so vain, but I am a 30-year-old woman.  While I am no pageant queen, beauty is important to me.  I miss wearing makeup, and the idea of going back to work without mascara just feeds my insecurity.

Then again, would I really want to wear eye makeup and draw attention to my mismatched eyes?  I wonder how long it will take for my pupils to match again, or worse, maybe they never will!?  My surgery eye is dilated almost triple the size of my non-surgery eye.  At least the the white part of my surgery eye is turning white again.  The extreme redness was totally disgusting!

I am so insecure about what my eye looks like that I avoid eye contact.  This is a problem at work because I also meet with the public a lot.  Before my surgery, I prided myself on my communication style.  I like to think my sincere eye contact has helped people feel more comfortable when talking to me about how zoning, etc. affects their livelihoods.  This anxiety compromises that for me.  I have thought of wearing an eye patch or sunglasses, but like the makeup, that only draws attention.

I'm not really sure what to do about this vanity anxiety.  I guess I just have to put one foot in front of the other, go back to work, and let people react.  It doesn't seem like there is much else I can do.  I certainly can't afford to stay home from work for six months or something to fully heal.  It is time to try to restore some normalcy in my life.

Dreams: Waking Sight < Sleeping Sight

I have always been a person who dreams in vivid, life-like color.  Often, my dreams are bizarre and disjointed, but I wake up and try to recount them to my fiancé anyway, which usually yields a few of his hearty chuckles.  My post-surgery dreams have not changed.  I still "see" everything in bright color, but the difference now is that I wake up more disappointed than entertained.

When I wake up, I can only see well with one eye because my left eye still has this obnoxious gas bubble.  I sit up in my bed again and realize that my waking sight is far inferior to the "sleeping sight" in my dreams.  In my dreams, I can still drive a car.  Recently, I had a dream that I was riding a Vespa, something I have never actually done in real life and something I may never be able to try if my vision does not improve significantly.  Most mornings begin this way, with the harsh jolt of reality and at least a small dose of depression.

Then, I have to coax myself into the will to shower and start my day.  I manually remind myself of all the things for which and people for whom I can be thankful.  To be sure, I have many blessings, and when I recount them, I feel guilty for my daily pity parties.  I long for the morning when I wake up more appreciative than disappointed, almost as much as I long to have my pre-surgery vision back in my left eye.