Weird Vision

April 30th, I had the lens of my right eye removed and replaced with a bit of plastic.

Months earlier, I met with my ophthalmologist. I needed to get new contacts. My prescription is very strong. There are not many people who walk around with eyes as myopic as mine. Worse, my last pair of glasses, already years behind in strength, broke a year or so earlier. I wear my contacts when I don't sleep, so about 18 hours a day. Not good. He prescribed some new contacts but also, almost gleefully, noticed mild cataracts on both eyes.

As with most people, my eyes are important to me. When my age caught up to me and I was unable to focus on things near as I once could, work became very frustrating. I like using lots of monitor space. Off axis distortions, due to reading glasses, impact what I can take in in a single glance. My gestalt kaputt. My grok broke. But, my brain adapted, clever thing that it is.

But now, surgery. Actually, I asked about laser surgery. With my myopia, it's not in the cards. But, I thought I'd ask. Asking can be a bit abstract. Being recommended to have your lenses removed and replaced with bits of plastic is a bit more concrete. Still reflecting on this transformation from abstract to concrete, my ophthalmologist asked me if I wanted a referral to the surgeon. Sensing that I must be having an internal debate, he reminded me that it was just a consultation; I could decide to have or not have the surgery after talking with the surgeon.

The appointment was made and after a few weeks I met with my surgeon. He was efficient and completely relaxed. Those are probably good qualities for a fellow to have when he is sticking things into your eyes. He confirmed the mild cataracts and, with the same near gleeful optimism as my ophthalmologist, suggested I get the surgery. Still mulling it over, thinking, with a bit of suspicion, that that was 2 for 2 on the eager sharp tool to the eyeball attitude, his nurse was asking me about when and where I wanted to have the surgery. I could have it in his office or in the hospital. There was more restrictions with the hospital procedure, like not being able to eat breakfast. But the clincher was that the in-his-office-surgery would be a month further into the future. "Ha!" I thought. "I have more time to consider the ramifications of the removal of this small but critical bit of my body." Okay. I had more time to chicken out. Rationalizations aside, I had made my decision and relinquished myself to the nurse making the arrangements.

In the interim, I took my lenses to China. They saw a lot and had a great time.

Shortly after getting back, I got a call from my surgeon's office to confirm my appointment - a good month earlier than had been arranged! "Ha!" I thought. "My deferring strategy has been thwarted." As the time to lose my right lens approached, I made sure that I had my drops. The surgeon's office reminded me to get a medical form done. Abstract to concrete. I had also looked online about the procedure. The lens isn't so much removed as obliterated with ultrasound. I must confess that this was a disappointing discovery as I did have a thought to ask to keep the lenses to display on my bookshelf. Oh well.

As the day approached to get my right lens removed and replaced with a bit of plastic, an old old memory crept back into my mind. My version of the memory involves me being very young, less than 5 years old. I was playing in a sandbox or in a garden. Somehow, I got a knife stuck into my eye. It didn't cut the eye, but it did fill my eye with dirt. My dad took me to the hospital to have it cleaned out. While getting my eye cleaned out, the doctors bungled me in a white blanket so I could not struggle. This version has gone through many many iterations as a childhood nightmare. And it had long ago been put to rest. Until the days before the surgery. I'm glad that the memory came to light before the surgery. That gave me time to remember it and put it back to rest.

Memory is reconstructed so I don't know what the real story was. However, my mom tells me that I was about 10 months old when I got Dutch Cleanser in my eye. The rest of the story is much the same.

Last Wednesday, after an hour or so of preparation while sitting in a Lazy-boy chair, I walked into the room where the surgery was to happen. My surgeon was there, as efficient and completely relaxed as he was on my first visit. As I sat in the chair, he remarked on my anxiety. I laughed and tried to relax. I didn't have enough time to recount everything that was going on in my head. Nor would I risk putting him into a stupor with a monologue.

About 8 minutes. No pain. The only discomfort is the bright light shining into my eye. But, after my retina gets used to the glare, I try to relax by enjoying the color show. As the optical characteristics change between my retina and the light, my field of view fills with bright nebulas of colors. Cool. In the background, I can hear the ultrasound machine speak in a generic female voice. At a certain point, my surgeon informs me of when my lens is gone.

Soon the light is turned off. I can't see anything out of my eye as the retina needs time to recover from the light. As the retina recovers, all I can see is a white blur with shapes behind the blur. The view is interesting. It is like looking through a very dirty or frosted windshield. I get the sense of sharp images beyond the blur. As the day progresses, the blur diminishes. More and more, I get the sense of sharpness on the other side of the blur.

By the next morning, the blur is gone. The vision is sharper than it ever was with contacts. It is almost too sharp as my brain works on rewiring to accommodate the new detail. I have a new sense of 3-D space at a distance. My contacts were such that my left eye's prescription was more for distance and my right eye's prescription was more for reading distances. Now both eyes are looking at stuff in the distance. Of course, I need reading glasses for work.

After the surgery until Friday morning, the drops stung. But by Friday morning, no more stinging. Also, I went to see my surgeon. All seems to be well. And, I can easily see the 20/20 line. Cool.

I'm still getting used to the new vision. One of the first things I did was to set the clock radio by my bed to the right time. Before, it was just a red blur. Now I can read it. When I wake up, I can see clearly without having gummy contacts glued to my corneas. Very liberating.

On the 14th, I go back to get the left eye done. I have a sort of gleeful optimism about the procedure now. Weird.