The Evil Eye
Oh, the trials my left eye has put me through! Somehow, it developed a macular hole in the retina, which obliterated much of the central vision in that eye. So, after seeing several specialists, and enduring lopsided vision and resulting headaches for several long weeks, I finally had surgery to fix the hole.
The surgery itself wasn't too taxing; my surgeon was competent in spite of the fact that he looked to be about sixteen years old. No, the culprit of the surgery was that infuriating gas bubble that the surgeon placed in my eye to act as a band-aid for the repaired hole in the back of my eye. The trouble was that the bubble floated around in my eye, only doing its job when I was face down, with gravity forcing that little bubble into place against my retina.
The ophthamologists in Scottsbluff are not equipped to do this particular procedure, so Bill and I made the trip to Denver for the surgery, knowing that we would have to remain in a hotel in Denver for several days after the surgery. You see, I wasn't allowed to change altitude for several days after the gas bubble was inserted into my eye. The bubble will totally dissipate after a week or two, but, as my lime green medical alert bracelet states so clearly, a "change in atmospheric pressure may cause an increase in IOP (intraocular pressure) resulting in blindness."
Who can argue with a bracelet?
So there I was, stuck in a very nice hotel suite for an extended stay, with a husband who thoughtfully rented a massage chair and bed extension, and a couple of little zigzag mirrors, to make my face-down sentence a bit easier. I was not allowed to read or use a computer, and I could watch TV only with the help of one of those little, inadequate mirrors. My so-called good eye (which used to be my bad eye) rebelled after only a few minutes of trying to watch TV by this method, so I resorted to watching just the first and last five minutes or so of a program, and listening to the dialogue in between.
I was saved by the hotel's delicious breakfasts, made to order, and the many snacks we brought with us. Bill also ordered us some unusual suppers, so mealtimes provided some diversion. We were pleased to have a couple of visitors on Sunday to help pass the time. I enjoyed my daily afternoon naps, too, and had no trouble sleeping face-down at night, since I always sleep on my stomach anyway. The face-down bed extension made sleeping easy for me, most of the time. (I hate to think what torture it would be for anyone who normally sleeps on her side or back.)
On Sunday afternoon, I enjoyed a couple of brief walks outside the hotel, holding tightly to Bill's arm, basking in the delightfully balmy weather. But dizziness and headaches continue to plague me, so I have to walk carefully.
That offending gas bubble has diminished enough in size that most restrictions were lifted after today's doctor's appointment, and we were able to come home. What a pleasure it was to gaze out the car window at the snow-capped mountains as we left Denver this afternoon, with no fear of carsickness from riding face-down with my head on a bouncy foam cushion. (I forgot to mention how thankful I was that my nurse thought to give me a carsick bag at the last minute, just before we left the hospital on Thursday.)
Now that the gas bubble has shrunk a bit, I have a little clear peripheral vision in my eye. When I look through the bubble now, I can see colors and indistinct shapes. As I sat in the car today, traveling down the interstate with both eyes closed, the bubble's jiggling movement resembled ocean waves under the red sky of my eyelid. Yes, I can definitely see that bubble in my eye, even with my eyes closed.
I'm looking forward to holding each of my grandchildren tomorrow; I'm thankful that neither of them weighs more than my 30 pound limit for lifting.
I'm glad that Erin is here to ferry the kids wherever they need to go. My doctor says that I am free to drive, but I don't feel very confident about driving with such distorted vision. I can't even walk straight yet, so driving is probably not in the best interests of my passengers or any nearby cars or pedestrians.
I plan to go back to work next Monday. That gas bubble should be gone by then, or nearly so, so I hope to be seeing much better next week. I really hope that my zombie eye has faded to something approaching normal by then, too, so I don't scare my students. My eye currently contains no white at all--the post-operative bright red has begun to fade to fuchsia; perhaps it will appear to be merely bloodshot by next week.
Who can argue with a bracelet?
So there I was, stuck in a very nice hotel suite for an extended stay, with a husband who thoughtfully rented a massage chair and bed extension, and a couple of little zigzag mirrors, to make my face-down sentence a bit easier. I was not allowed to read or use a computer, and I could watch TV only with the help of one of those little, inadequate mirrors. My so-called good eye (which used to be my bad eye) rebelled after only a few minutes of trying to watch TV by this method, so I resorted to watching just the first and last five minutes or so of a program, and listening to the dialogue in between.
I was saved by the hotel's delicious breakfasts, made to order, and the many snacks we brought with us. Bill also ordered us some unusual suppers, so mealtimes provided some diversion. We were pleased to have a couple of visitors on Sunday to help pass the time. I enjoyed my daily afternoon naps, too, and had no trouble sleeping face-down at night, since I always sleep on my stomach anyway. The face-down bed extension made sleeping easy for me, most of the time. (I hate to think what torture it would be for anyone who normally sleeps on her side or back.)
On Sunday afternoon, I enjoyed a couple of brief walks outside the hotel, holding tightly to Bill's arm, basking in the delightfully balmy weather. But dizziness and headaches continue to plague me, so I have to walk carefully.
That offending gas bubble has diminished enough in size that most restrictions were lifted after today's doctor's appointment, and we were able to come home. What a pleasure it was to gaze out the car window at the snow-capped mountains as we left Denver this afternoon, with no fear of carsickness from riding face-down with my head on a bouncy foam cushion. (I forgot to mention how thankful I was that my nurse thought to give me a carsick bag at the last minute, just before we left the hospital on Thursday.)
Now that the gas bubble has shrunk a bit, I have a little clear peripheral vision in my eye. When I look through the bubble now, I can see colors and indistinct shapes. As I sat in the car today, traveling down the interstate with both eyes closed, the bubble's jiggling movement resembled ocean waves under the red sky of my eyelid. Yes, I can definitely see that bubble in my eye, even with my eyes closed.
I'm looking forward to holding each of my grandchildren tomorrow; I'm thankful that neither of them weighs more than my 30 pound limit for lifting.
I'm glad that Erin is here to ferry the kids wherever they need to go. My doctor says that I am free to drive, but I don't feel very confident about driving with such distorted vision. I can't even walk straight yet, so driving is probably not in the best interests of my passengers or any nearby cars or pedestrians.
I plan to go back to work next Monday. That gas bubble should be gone by then, or nearly so, so I hope to be seeing much better next week. I really hope that my zombie eye has faded to something approaching normal by then, too, so I don't scare my students. My eye currently contains no white at all--the post-operative bright red has begun to fade to fuchsia; perhaps it will appear to be merely bloodshot by next week.
Throughout this ordeal, I have been so thankful for Bill's loving care, for Erin's willingness to tend to her younger siblings while we were gone, for the kindnesses of friends and family, and for the many prayers offered on my behalf. I am thankful that we live in a time and place where trained medical personnel can fix a problem that would have been a sure sentence of blindness not so long ago. Above all, I am thankful that God has sustained me and made my surgery and face-down time bearable.
I have been reminded, yet again, that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4: 13
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