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.

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.  :)

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.