Not exactly "routine" eye surgery

So, finally, I have felt well enough to post after my eye surgery Thursday. I've been in considerable pain for the past 4 days that one could equate to a shooting, sharp, throbbing pain coupled with headaches and fleeting moments of relief thanks to codeine. It comes and goes, but generally, I feel like crap.

I still feel like my eyeball is the size of a volleyball and my vision is considerably blurry.

It all started Thursday morning as I sat sweating bullets in the waiting room of the surgery center. I hate needles, anesthesia and generally not having control over things, so I was clammy. Chas held my sweaty hand while I waited endlessly for my name to be called.

Finally, an hour later after checking in, I was called into "that room".

I was blindly lead into a very sterile room lined with surgical beds and a very old woman lying comatose post surgery. I felt like I was in the twilight zone and started to sweat even more. This rather chatty nurse had me lie down on one of the beds. "Is this where I am having the procedure?"

She laughs and says, "oh no, this is where we prep you. You'll be fine". she notices how shaky I am and comments to the other nurse in the room, "we have a nervous ninny over here" and they giggle and say "oh no, nervous? Why are you nervous? you won't feel anything."

"I hate needles and I don't do well with the anticipation"

"oh honey, we have such a baby here, and a nervous one, it'll be juuuust fine" She made a point earlier to mention they don't usually see young people like myself here, mostly 80-year-olds for cataract surgery. I guess there's a first time for everything and I usually like to break the norm, so why not now.

I met the anesthesiologist, Steve, and he jokes about my nerves and says. "oh, I've got the good stuff, you'll be fine." He then lifts the blanket covering my feet and says, "Nice Crocs, I like my Birks though" and then wisks through a big door marked "Sterile zone".

All this talk about how fine I will be is making me more nervous. They keep telling me that my surgery is very simple and nothing to worry about. But, it's being performed on one of the most sensitive parts of my body, my eye, and also if anything went wrong, I'd be without sight or possibly the entire eye itself. I read the paperwork, I know the risks, I signed the series of waivers.

So, there I lay. Under a heated blanket, waiting for my preparations.

The one chatty nurse comes over and takes my blood pressure, temperature and tells me the other gal will do my IV for my "juice" as they called it.

I see the other lady with the needles, tourniquet, and gauze walking my way. I am such a wimp. I start to feel my mouth dry up. She asks the other lady to come over and talk to me to distract me. So she starts telling me what great eyes Chas has, whom she met in the waiting room and starts asking about wedding details. I am so not interested in dishing about my wedding dress, the where, what, or why about the ceremony. I don't even remember there is a wedding soon. But none the less, the IV was in. That really hurt because it was on my hand, not really the most comfortable place to have a needle. It's mostly bone and tiny veins. I wanted it out like those belligerent people on ER when they show that hysterical patient who frantically starts to pull at things. It hurt and wasn't subsiding. I was cringing.

"oh my, you are getting pale" And she beckons the "juice" doctor, Steve, to give me something to calm me. Nothing was hooked up to my IV, so I think maybe they gave me something through my tube in my nose, not sure.

I am hooked up to an oxygen tube in my nose at this point and I have clamps on my wrists that look like I am in handcuffs, which they hook the EKG monitor up to. It starts to beep and I think, holy shit, what's that?! It beeped because I moved apparently.

Anyway, at this point, I have tubes and cords and then a nice looking shower cap on my head. I look extremely attractive at this point. I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille, I think to myself.

They came over to clean my eyeball and numb it. I am suddenly feeling more relaxed but still had to ask, "this isn't my sedation is it?"

"oh no, hahaha, that was just something to relax you before we go in". So I needed pre-sedation sedation.

I was probably a laughing stock. Everyone kept light-heartedly joking about my nerves. I wanted to say "I know, I am probably the most nervous person you will ever meet, let's not make an issue of it, k?"

So, the time arrives and I am wheeled in the room by a very tall African-American lady who promptly says, "She was right, your fiance is a doll". I laugh because these nurses are like vultures today.

As I lay there watching about 4 people in shower caps fuss around, hooking me up, manipulating me and making casual conversation with me before "lights out". The surgeon comes in and says hi, and then they start the sedation. I remember the moment I went out as he put what seemed like an adhesive tarp over my face and eye and then began to cut a hole.

The next thing I remember was waking up at the wrong time. During surgery. Not good. I guess I tried to sit up. I slurred "Chas?" and the blurry surgeon promptly says, "no, your are in surgery, do not move." and then he told the "juice" doctor to give me more stuff and then that's all I remember. Lights out again. Thank god.

I wasn't really told what to expect afterwards other than "you'll be uncomfortable" and will want to take pain pills, eye drops for infection and to rest. I was told it could take months for my eye to heal and that my vision will fluctuate. I've been thouroughly miserable though. My eye feels like someone stabbed me and I can't see very well. The patch was removed at my Friday appointment and I wake up each morning with a lovely amount of yellow "goop" that seals my eye nicely shut. Basically, this was far from expected. Friday, I think the "juice" hadn't quite worn off and I was kinda hazy and goofy. Saturday was the worst because I could hardly hold my eye open without pain. Anyway, this whole procedure was far from routine and I still have a swollen eyeball that looks bloody and is very sore.

I hope to heal up by next Friday when I get my biopsy results. But, I really went into this whole thing "blind" (pun intended) although he did tell me I would be in an undisclosed amount of pain, it was vague. You're really never prepared or know what to expect when having something removed from your eye. It sucked and I am dreading work tomorrow since I haven't driven yet or left my home. What an interesting, pain-filled trip this has been.

Thanks for listening to my play by play.

Until tomorrow, or whenever I feel up to writing again.

Ciao