Steve's Big Day

It finally arrived, the day he'd been waiting for since last spring. It's also the day he's been dreading: his first cataract surgery. I've been trying to reassure him, having been through it myself. When I heard he was getting laser surgery, I started building up the light show he could look forward to, about 8 minutes of something better than fireworks, something he'd never forget, nor see again until his next one... next month.

Like me before it happened, he's been dreading the procedure. It's kind of a freak out mentally, having somebody approach your eye with sharp instruments. Even an eyelash is a special kind of torture, so a scalpel? And having to watch? Plus worrying you'll be even more blind than you were before the procedure?

In the event, for me it was nothing like I'd feared. There were eye drops to prevent pain, first of all. Likely they also kept the muscles from letting me blink, some thing very necessary. Or maybe I'm forgetting some kind of clamp. It doesn't really bear investigation. (Squirm.) I was calm through the procedure, but I can't remember if they gave me something for that or I just relaxed because it didn't hurt and I couldn't even see them before they started, thanks to the laser light show. That part was fascinating, swirls and curls of a variety of colors in a non-stop dance until it was all over.

For me this time, it's a day of errands. First, I have a club obligation for an hour. I leave the club an hour before Steve needs to be at surgery, giving me time to come home, make sure he's got everything he needs, and load him in the car. I won't be staying, not only because they keep him a bit after it's over, but I've got errands to run with Rich in the meantime, taking him to a local store to buy a small heat sink fan so the computer which was donated to him will actually run. Rich's goal is to learn about 80 hours worth of an online course on computer networking systems, hopefully the way to a lucrative job. It won't be until that's done and I pick up Steve that we'll have any clue how it went for him.

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First, he's fine, though a little wobbly yet. Even holding my arm, he doesn't have the depth of field in his one-eyed vision to navigate confidently even the curb cut getting us back to the car. I have to assure him it's all flat, that the color change is not an elevation change. Once we're buckled in, the questions start.

Where to? Home? Fry's for that minor shopping he needs? A fast food joint for lunch? Steve just wants to go home. The errand, Jet Dry for the dishwasher and a jar of horseradish, can wait. Food is at home, no need to delay getting back in his chair to relax. 

Now that I'm pointed in the right direction, more questions. Did it hurt? No. "Easy peasy" is how he put it, about an 8 minute procedure. Could he see the procedure from his side? Nope. Did he see all those colors? Nope. Major disappointment! I guess I built it up too much. Neither of us has a clue why I saw them and he didn't. Later inquiry at his post-op the next day revealed his surgeon has no clue either. The only thing I can come up with, with absolutely no evidence or research to back it, is perhaps my eye, having been blind at the time for several weeks, was firing on all cylinders making up for lack of input for those weeks, now drenched in laser stimulation.

Who knows?

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His post op exam is early in the morning, and again I drive. Of course. Going in, the eye is still covered in gauze and a stainless steel shield. Coming out he's wearing very black sunglasses so I can't see either eye. Again I steer him safely over the non curb and around to the car. Same questions: Fry's for Jet Dry and horseradish sauce? Fast food joint? Straight home?  He asks if I'm willing to do the shopping at Fry's. Sure.  Then it's home so I can have breakfast. He already ate before we left, no food restrictions for him this day. 

I ask how he's doing, but he's not sure. There's still the minor eye pain that he had yesterday, so it's another dose of ibuprofin. As the day progresses, not only does the pain not disappear, but the eye is watering steadily, won't stop. Steve finally tucks a whole clean handkerchief over the eye, under his glasses to soak it up. Since this is novel to me, he decided to call a cousin in Colorado who just had cataract surgery to compare notes. 

It turns out to have been a brilliant idea. Steve had put his old glasses on once he got home. He's always needed them for distance vision. This new lens corrects for distance. Steve has lots of recorded TV to watch while he has another day of very little activity while the eye heals. The glasses turn out to be a mistake. They are making his eye fight against the correction, straining the muscles and inducing the watering. After thanking his cousin, Steve hangs up, removes glasses and hanky, and the next four hours are filled with increasing levels of "I can see!" The new eye keeps improving in vision, stops both hurting and watering. Steve's finally excited about his new vision! As are we for him.

Now his schedule is to go back for his 2nd post-op check on the 4th, after which the next round of appointments start for the other eye. In the meantime, he'll discover how his close vision is, as in how well he can read now, something his old eyes did just fine without glasses. (Backwards of most of us as we age.) He'll have to wait until they are "settled" before he can get tested for new glasses, if he even needs them. We have no clue yet. I expect in a day or two more he'll start checking it out on his own, because who wouldn't? He's also started comparing how the color white compares as seen in alternate eyes, one of my tests for how the untreated eye is progressing towards needing its surgery.

He's so encouraged, he's planned a little trip for the two of us tomorrow, once some morning errands -always more, eh? - are finished. As always I won't count on it until he announces his back is up to it, but it's good to know he's looking forward to anything this soon.