Memoirs of a retinal detachment survivor: 4 months later

When I think of the multiple roles I play in my daily life (doting phonics expert mum, competitive sports mum, Shakespeare chatting/chiding mum to a pre-teen while keeping my temper in check, supportive spouse, CEO to my COO-darling husband, teacher, mentor, colleague, daughter, sister, friend, meal planner, house organizer, party planner, holiday organizer, soiree hostess,# yougetthepicture), I have had to, in the last 4 months add this new role to my resume- retinal detachment survivor.

It’s not an easy one. It’s seems rare but it happens. It’s not chronic and life-threatening; it’s not like a cancerous tumour. Yes, it’s your eye ; a very important organ, but you are expected to get on with your life and be thankful, grateful. I am. So full of gratitude. I am Bartimeas. I have been saved.

But I have had to concentrate on my new role because if I just ignore it, and say it has become me, then I might forget that I have been briefly in the darkness , reduced to counting fingers and seeing shadowy figures and back to light.

Since July 8 2012, I have had 5 operations on my eye( 4 on my right, 1 on my left) Three of them were laser ones(not LASIK, where one does it for vanity, or for practicality) but where the ophthalmologist shoots red light like “laser tags” your eye to seal your retina, to try to hold the delicate membrane together; it just beguiles and confounds me how this business of the retina works. Two of the operations were more delicate and invasive in nature. I really should have paid more attention in Biology lessons instead of writing haikus about bones! Also, I have had my eyes dilated so much that it really messes up your head!

But right now, in my new role as eye surgery survivor, I can tell you that the blooming retina is one heck of an important fabric of the human body! It decides on the amount of light that enters into your eye to determine your visual acuity. In fact, retinal specialists are really important medical experts- for they help you restore your vision using delicate microscopes and mini tools that you won’t probably touch in your lifetime. If they do a good job, you have a lot to be grateful for- whether it’s a retinopexy, a vitrectomy or a scleral buckle procedure.( I have had both the former.)

I am lucky( and I will say it again and again) that modern medical science has made me see again. 30 years ago, I probably wouldn’t have been this lucky.

One comic observation that has come out of this is that I have realised that it is a pre-requisite for ophthalmologists to really have nice ears, the amount of patients who have to stare at their ears all day!

There is a tiny halo left over from my post-silicone oil removal surgery that comes and sometimes goes. I have learned to live with it. It’s slightly smaller than a five cent coin and hopefully, my brain will train to see it like a parasite and will expel it. I will try to be positive and see it as a halo of God, rather than an irritant. Or an annoying oily glob leftover from the silicone oil tamponade used to buffer my retina back in place. I am technically middle aged-40- though of course my mind tells me I am really still 21. So presbyopia has started to set in. But imagine having to equilibrate your distinctly different eyes- one with a near 6/6 vision with an intra- ocular lens for long distance and the other, with a myopia of -700 which requires me wearing a contact lens on one eye. For reading, I now wear a pair of RM10 reading classes to help equilibrate both eyes, as fine eye work of telling the difference between a comma and a full-stop is really a daily occupational hazard.

Having been on eyes drops for about 3.5 months, from eye pressure drops to steroid ones to the much-despised dilation ones, I can tell you that it made me feel almost like a pill-popper. I was almost having withdrawal symptoms when I went off them! But gleefully so.

Sometimes, though rarely now, I wake up in nightmarish jolts just to check if I can see properly. I view people now as perfectly sighted or partially sighted or legally blind. I realize now that even if your sight is not 100%, life does go on. And you adjust. My partially blind foot masseuse( I have many conversations with my multiple masseuse- they are great conversationalists) taught me some humbling life lessons.

From him, I learned to slow down, close my eyes and be grateful. And just be.

That is all.

-R Nov 2012