Fresh Eyes


Fuch’s Dystrophy is a condition where your cornea doesn’t release the liquid in your eye like it ought to. It makes for some gorgeous affects, and horrible driving. Especially at night. Everything has such beautiful auras. I’ve said it rather consistently now, its like living in Van Gogh’s Starry Starry Night.

Fuch’s Dystrophy. I know, it’s a weird name, isn’t it? Everyone pronounces it FOOCHES, likely to avoid the obvious. My Dad has it, so I knew it was distinctly possible I’d end up with it as well. Knowing what the symptoms are, it didn’t surprise me at all when I realized I was experiencing them.

It seemed just a matter of time.

I didn’t expect to be sent for surgery immediately. I figured there would be some sort of “conservative treatment” as it seems that’s what every doctor does first. Likely, that’s because that’s the demand of the insurance companies, but don’t get me started on that.

Van Gogh’s Starry Starry Night. See that aura on every star? Those swirls in the night? I did!

If you’re curious about it, Fuch’s Dystrophy at American Academy of Ophthalmology

When the yellow rotating light on top of a tow truck on the Interstate caused an affect something like a black hole, I knew I shouldn’t be driving at night anymore. The first time I saw the surgeon, she grounded me from driving altogether. That sucks.

Back in my Dad’s day, he had to have complete cornea implants. With stitches. He had to hang his head off the bed to sleep at night for three days or something like that. He popped the stitches on one eye and ended up having to live with that until he was up for a second set, about 20 years. Sounds like fun, right?

So I was nervous to say the least. Nervous but excited, and in a way, in an important way, lucky. See, my husband had a swollen blood vessel behind his left eye for which he gets injections. Then he ended up with shingles in his right eye for which he had drops; drops that caused a cataract for which he now needs surgery.

Lucky because although it was surgery and didn’t sound fun at all, it was “one and done.” No injections. A fair trade, I’d say.

The first surgery went along well enough except that the doctor failed to mention the aftercare instructions meant that for 24 hours I could only stand or sit for 15 minutes at a time, followed by an hour of laying flat with my head straight up and staring at the ceiling. Starting immediately. In order to get home then, we had a normally 45 minute drive which would have taken 3-4 hours, and then a postop first thing in the morning the next day. Um, no.

Without planning then, we found the closest hotel and I checked in. As I approached the counter, the desk clerk said the name of the clinic we’d been at. I guess the eye patch was a dead giveaway and we weren’t the first patients there. That was the case, as it turned out they had a patient discount.

This all seems like everything’s going along swell, right? Just wait for it…

They no longer perform a complete cornea implant for this Dystrophy. They graft. Sort of like patchwork. Its brilliant, because it means that a donated cornea can stretch so much further. The presurgical procedure for this involves a laser making a hole in the iris. My doctor told me it would feel like a rubberband snapped on my eyeball. She was right. That was exactly what it felt like. This creates a bubble in the eye that presses the graft into place and holds it there.

So far so good, right?

That night I was fine for a few hours but then I encountered horrible, terrible pain.

I had been told to call if there were any problems but does anyone ever really believe that? I didn’t. All I could take was Acetaminophen, and Acetaminophen PM, and boy howdie did I. Take the pill, go back to sleep. Fortunately the hotel had gigantic puffy pillows that made the perfect “V” shape to hold my head in place, so I was able to sleep.

I saw the doctor in the morning, and she knew what had happened almost immediately. I had somehow, by rubbing my eye or something, moved the bubble so that it was lodged behind my pupil.

That explained the pain.

She set me up for surgery immediately after her morning office hours. Their surgery center was in the same building, so all we had to do was move from one waiting room to another. Unfortunately, I had eaten that morning so all I couldn’t have had anesthesia. I didn’t care. It couldn’t hurt worse, and they promised me that I’d feel fine.

So I waited. By waiting, I mean I fell asleep. In one waiting room and in the other, leaning on my husband’s shoulder for the most part, and an obliging post for a bit. I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and I wasn’t even popping the Acetaminophen PM anymore. But hell, it passed the time.

12:30 and they called me in for surgery. It was the lunch hour, so the surgical area was weirdly quiet as the team working on me were the only people back there. I was all comfy on the surgical cart, as ready as could be. The doctor was dressed for surgery, pulled the eye open, and said, “its back in place.”

The same way I’d knocked it out of place, I apparently knocked it back into place. Now that I was awake for a few minutes, I did finally notice that there was a lot less pain.

The second eye was a lot less trouble. We knew the routine now. I had a reservation and packed a bag for the hotel. The hubs got me set up, then went home to be with the cats & my best friend stayed the night with me. Hubs wanted to make sure there was someone with me, just in case. So we extended the stay an extra night just so we could just hang out.

I thought, for sure, that my eyes were as fantastic as they could be when this was all done. The actual healing was almost immediate. Two days, tops, and my vision was up to pre-surgery condition, a week and I could see better. That was it, I was sure.

Until they tested my vision. I now have my very first pair of all-day glasses. Not just readers, mind you. Proper glasses. I apparently now have an astigmatism, which doesn’t surprise me either. I thought my vision was as good as it was going to get, until I picked these up.

So I’m back to work. I can read. I can bead. I can create. Its keeping me busy, but then it was keeping me busy before, but I’m having a lot more fun with it now that I can see.

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About Camylleon

Just another Spiritual Wanderer in the world. I've my own perspectives, my own beliefs. Some might sound good to you, some might not. That's fine. That's life. Just remember, I have every right to my own opinions. If you don't like them, feel free to move on down the road. Also remember, I have the right to be blissfully ignorant of your opinions if I should decide so. Don't assume that all comments will be published! If rejected, feel free to write it all out in your own blog.
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