Travelogue Paris: Rendezvous at the American Hospital

Travelogue Paris: Rendezvous at the American Hospital of Paris

My retinal detachment drama

Two days after my discharge from the American Hospital. Our only en famille photo in Paris.

Most ladies who go to Paris end up with a handbag or two, whether a LV, a Chanel or a Birkin. I ended up with the Hermes of eye surgeries. Ever since we got back to KL, I have been inundated by questions such as, “What happened? Why did you get an operation in Paris? What IS a retinal detachment? Were you in pain? You mean you chose Paris for the surgery? Why not Singapore, if you don’t trust Malaysian doctors? (Haha, I had to laugh at that one, and the little faith we have in our poor surgeons).

So, here’s my story. A blow by blow account of my treatment du jour through my lenses.( no pun intended!)

First of all, a retinal detachment is NOT an elective thing, it’s almost a silent but acute emergency. It’s definitely not like, “Okay, I am flying to Seoul, and getting my nose done!” It’s not like I know that on July 16, when we arrived in Paris, I would suddenly emerge from a dark plane in CDG into the early morning summer sunshine to see hundreds of annoying floaters swimming in the periphery of my visual field. It’s more like as the day progressed(We managed to take the children to Place de Vosges( my favourite square in ALL of Paris) while I sat on a shady park bench just resting and enjoying the fresh cool Paris air, walked through the Marais quarter,sat down to watch buskers & dancers on the Ile St Louis bridge & finally, in submission, sat down for Mass at the Notre Dame where I fervently prayed for 3 important things, one of them was 'DEAR GOD, PLEASE HEAL MY EYE'), the floaters would still be there, but later that evening, it felt as though half my contact lens had peeled off, and my visual field got slightly opaque, with a shadow cast on my the bottom left side of my right eye.(I think the exact moment this happened, I was at the local Marche Prix buying milk, cheese, ham & eggs with family, and I remember telling M : I have to go back to our apartment NOW to lie down as I really didn’t ‘feel well’ (as though lying down would help reattach my retina!) So, those were the symptoms- floaters,a shadow and opaqueness, then flashes of neon in the darkness, all in silence. Spontaneously detaching. Silently but surely, urgently. Painlessly...

First day in Paris; fun with the kids despite my retina slowly detaching itself silently.

Citing jet-lag and tiredness( I had been so looking forward to some time away from KL after a hectic and quite challenging year at work- the last 6 months have been really tough and stressful, and I just needed this break to clear my mind from the reality of work life.) So on the evening of July 16, I dropped off to bed by 8.30pm while M and the kids watched a movie- I think it was a cartoon called A Monster in Paris, which he had downloaded( all Paris movies) prior to getting to Paris being a hopeless romantic that he is). I slept restlessly then woke up at 4am Paris time, and this time, I knew that I HAD to go to a hospital that morning. The neon flashes in the dark had become more frequent, and I just didn’t feel right. I could still see okay but I calmly & silently prayed in the dawn light, & waited for M & the children to wake up.

When Martin woke up at 8, we rang up his very amiable and friendly Paris-based client/now friend G who happened to be in their farmhouse in the Loire at the time, but she very quickly phoned her ophthalmologist for an appointment. However, being July, he was already away on vacation. G suggested we go straight to the American Hospital in Neuilly- sur- Seine. I quickly googled the American Hospital and got the exact address and read up their homepage and we got dressed and got a taxi there. (Now, what I didn’t know then that green and clean Neuilly-sur-Seine has had its fair share of famously rich and well -heeled French top guns.) It’s a leafy upmarket suburb west of the centre, on the fringes of central Paris, just beyond Arr 17. The infamous DSK was born there, Sarkozy and Hollande both grew up there. SO, you can imagine my hospital bill later! :) Our lived-in Filipino helper, who used to work for a royal Syrian/Lebanese family in Beirut later told me that her employer had a mansion there, next to the Imelda Marcos’ and were friends with them. Her previous Ma’am had had brain cancer and had treatment there and it’s an excellent hospital. Ok, had we know it then, would we still have gone there? Without a doubt of course. A retinal detachment is not something to be taken lightly. When you are abroad, the best place you will feel is in a hospital where you would receive the best treatment.

The corridor of my ward at the Hopital Americain de Paris.

My point is, the French have one of the best health systems in the world and even if I had walked into a public hospital, I would have been fine. But the American Hospital is excellent- so good and efficient that I was seen too within 45 minutes of my arrival. They even asked if we needed a Mandarin or Cantonese translator! 187 patients to 400 doctors? The second we arrived at the hospital by taxi, we were ushered to the Ophtalmological Suite 3. The attending doctor was an older doctor, with a pot-belly named Dr L. He was nice enough, but dismissively French with all the flourishes that we typically associate Parisians with, and he announced to us after examining my eye, confirming my WORST fears, in a French-accented English: “YES, you have a retinal detachment. You need an operation!” We asked, “Dr, could we fly back to Kuala Lumpur immediately and have it done there? His answer: Yes, you can fly back, but you will lose your sight. ( Okay, that was reassuring, NOT, Dr!) Us: Let’s schedule for an operation straight-away then. Dr L then rang his colleague on his mobile, spoke in rapid French about ‘this patient with an emergency retinal detachment from Malaysia’, and immediately confirmed that the surgeon would see me at 6, and the operation would happen that evening at 7. “I can’t do the surgery for you, but my colleague, much younger than me, about 40 who is a retinal specialist will come later. He's good. Don't worry. Start fasting."

Suddenly, it SANK IN. I started processing- 'OMG, SURGERY, in Paris?' The costs involved were the last thing on my mind. I knew that side of things would get taken care of. But an actual surgery in an operating theatre, with anaesthesia and scalpels and scrub nurses, in a foreign country?( I think I had been watching too many episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and have also listened too much to my brother in law who is a consultant anaesthesist and his sometimes funny cum horror OT stories over the dinner table!) I thought of my poor children, my sweet husband, my parents? my 2 sisters? my dogs! What if I don’t wake up after the surgery? What if... what if...? For someone like moi, who essentially likes to be in control, (As my husband says of me, you are a formidably strong woman, and that’s what I love about you), I have NEVER had anaesthesia in my life. Even with the au naturel birth of my 3 children, which were quite textbook, I was in complete control of my labour, my obgyn and the nurses. But to 'go under'? To have someone cut open my eye(my EYE?!!!) and do stuff to it? I masked my fears behind the bravado of a loving mother and put up a brave smile for the children and M. Secretly, I was a little terrified.

Trying to stay brave in front of the kids just before my admission.

I first thing I did was try to ring my Dad in Penang. For some reason, we couldn’t get him on his mobile, so I had to speak to Mum instead. We Leng daughters know that when there are emergencies, we always speak to Dad first, not Mum. Mum loves us to bits and is a wonderful woman, but she’s also a Chinese Hokkien mother. So she was like, “What, an eye operation? In Paris? Aiyo, why like that? Why didn’t you look after you eye? You shouldn’t have flown, must be the pressure and high altitude. (Okay, how do I explain to Dr. Mum over 10,000km away, that no matter how much I ‘look after my eye’, if my retina was going to detach, it will just detach regardless??) Anyway, it was nice chatting to you, Mum, I feel better already! Next, I whatsapped my best friend D, my prayer pal, and admitted to her that I was scared. Later on, I sent a short text by whatsapp to my sisters and my other best friends who by then were getting ready for bed in KL to tell them what was going on. My great tough-cookie friend, S, who had surgery on BOTH her eyes to fix both her retinas a few years ago assured me all will be well! “You’re in France, babe, you’ll get the best treatment. So just relax, you’ll be fine.” Their support and encouraging words held me together. And faith kept my spirits up. Together, we had a mini family conference cry, just to let things out. The children were amazingly strong. My eldest was stoic as ever, my two younger ones held me close. I could see M trying not to break down and I felt really bad putting him through this.

My patient tag!

By 1.00pm, I got admitted as an official patient at the American Hospital of Paris, short of checking into the Crillon or George V, the smooth English-speaking staff assured me that I would receive the best treatment.I thought of Yves St-Laurent doing the same, years before, before he died there. ( No negative thoughts, no negative thoughts!) I spoke to my KL ophtalmologist as he was having his dinner KL time, who advised me to use silicone oil & wished me luck! M was sorting out the insurance at the same time. The kids, bless them, had the ipad to occupy them; the only times they ever were hooked on the ipad to distract them was when I was at the hospital.

The kids were immersed in a game on the ipad: we allowed them that small treat only during my time in hospital and at the doctors' to distract them from the reality of the emergency.

By 2.20pm I was checked into my room no. 516. All rooms are single, so the patients get all the privacy they needed, watching French TV and drinking copious amounts of Evian water, if you are not fasting or on drips and they even give you a set of Peckniffs' mood therapy toiletries! The last time I had Peckniffs' mood therapy was in our hotel in Shanghai a couple of years ago. I started smiling, amused, to myself, to console myself of the COST( & irony) of this Hermes operation! But again, that was the last thing on my mind! At least, I’ll smell nice, I thought!

My room!

Once settled in my room, I asked M to take the kids out for a walk and for a late lunch. Neuilly -sur- Seine, especially where the hospital was located, was unfamiliar territory to us as tourists. Leafy boulevards with gated mansions don’t result in too much entertainment for kids. Just before that, my debonair anaesthetist, Dr K came in to ask me some questions. Do you smoke, what’s your health pattern? ( I thought, wait till I tell my bro in law, E about this impeccable PR skills of his Paris colleague!) He was surprised I haven’t had any epidural for my 3 children but I feebly joked that I was trying to save my husband money but look where that got me? His response, in effusive accentless, English was “May this be your last one, Mrs Leng."-possibly NOT the best thing to say to a girl who was about to go under, but it became a standard joke between us in the next 3 days! ( I was also too tired to correct him to say that I was not really Mrs Leng,( but actually Mrs LEE nee Leng) and that it's not de regueur for Chinese women to adopt their husband’s surnames when they marry but I didn’t think this was the right time for me to be so gungho about my feminist ideals either so I smiled back at him.) Then the rigmarole began, nurses and orderlies started streaming in. My blood pressure was taken, my blood( oh yes, I discovered that the veins on my right elbow joint may be fat and look really juicy but no blood can be drawn out of there. If we had known it then, I would have been poked and prodded so much).

I was weighed, had my temperature taken and then given some antiseptic to wash myself my top to toe. So that I get squeaky clean for the OT. I changed into that dreadful hospital gown that labels you officially as a PATIENT! You'd think that with the room rates they charge you at the American Hospital, the least they can do was to give you a silk dressing gown, all sterilised of course! I thought: Good one, Renie, from TOURIST TO PATIENT! Then the paperwork came, the signing of the CONSENT FORMS! I did them quickly and kept my fingers crossed. Alone, in my room at last, I started to pray again and my fear slowly evaporated, and I managed with one failing eye, to write a letter each to the four most important people in my life ---to dearest M and the 3 munchkins. Only then did the second reality hit me, I was well & truly going under, and I better get out of the OT with my eyesight fully restored, if not for me, for THEM!

With my iphone and complimentary WEEFEE (They bring you a new password everyday!), I managed to google my surgeon to see who this person was who was going to operate on me. The first page on google netted some positive results- I was relieved that he was consulting for the American Hospital, had a double-barrel surname, was in a medical video on youtube and has written copious amounts of research papers, and was Chief of Surgery at Hospital Foch so he must be be pretty impressive.

By 5pm, the nurses popped by to give me two happy pills, atharax which is a very sleepy anti -histamine, and a relaxant. I felt drowsy straight away, and suddenly felt much better. Now I know why some people are hooked on drugs! When M & the kids came back, we prayed together as a family and I was starting to languish into my own drug-induced world of a new druggy! The kids too started to feel tired and were falling asleep on my bed as by then they were a little worn out and jet-lagged.

After 6, the orderly brought a wheel chair to take me down to the eye examination room to say that my eye surgeon ( & an assistant surgeon who, I recall reminded me of Steve Jobs) was finally here to see me. The second I met him in my drug-induced state, when he shook my hands firmly and smiled very kindly, and told me that it will be alright, I INSTANTLY felt much better. Dr PK, is so not your typical Frenchman or alpha male surgeon. Not that I have met too many of them in my lifetime. For starters, he’s really warm, reassuring and very nice. He seemed very sincere and had very kind eyes. And even with my wonky eye, I could see that he was a bit of an eye candy( again no pun intended). And for a girl on drugs and about to go into surgery, that truly is a bonus. ( As my girlfriends later tell me, “Trust You to get a dishy doctor, for most of us would probably end up with an old fuddy- duddy, grumpy one"). In the words of my best friend D, "Well, if you are going to be operated on, what better person than a Mark-Ruffalo looka-like!"

But seriously, it’s not the eye candy bit. But more that he completely radiated compassion and emanated kindness and a genuine honesty that you don’t get from surgeons especially. There was no showiness, cockiness or abruptness that I have experienced with other male doctors like : "Trust me, baby, I’ll fix you right up with my scalpel.” Lucky me, I got a doctor who took his Hippocratic oath very seriously. He examined my eye thoroughly( I was down to only counting fingers by then), listened to me intently, and patiently drew an eye and two holes to show 2 TEARS in my retina, on a piece of paper and explained that he was going to perform a VITRECTOMY in my eye. At that drug-induced stage, I wouldn’t have cared if it was my appendicts or heart or brains that he was taking out, as I was suddenly overwhelmed by drowsiness, nothing too intense was registering really. (Sorry). I remember him telling me he does 400 of this type of surgeries a year which I thought was reassuring. I later looked up the meaning of vitrectomy only AFTER reading the surgical report and am glad I had no idea what it meant BEFORE the surgery! As M was with the kids in my room, I requested that the surgeon explain to my dear, worried -sick husband what he was going to do to me and he kindly consented to, and that really reassured M so very much that he said it made him feel so much better straightaway.

Soon, I was transferred onto a gurney trolley & wheeled into the OT. Drowsy, in semi-induced state, with a detached retina in one eye, and no glasses on the other, it was all a haze to me. I recognised Dr PK’s voice saying hello and Dr K my friendly anasthesist saying hello, and my male orderly, who looked Algerian, was so sweet, he kept reassuring me on the way to the OT to not worry and that I was in the best hands. All in all, the best bed-side manners I had ever encountered from all the staff. I remember seeing a window, and joked with them,"Wow, an operation with a view; at least we're not in the basement!" At about 7.20pm Paris time on July 17, I had my FIRST EVER dose of general anaesthetic. The second Dr K told me that he was going to put me to sleep, I was knocked out completely!

I wouldn’t know what exactly happened to me in that two hours when I was operated on, but all I know, in layman's terms is that advanced medical science and an excellent, experienced surgeon can do wonders. In most cases now, retinal detachment surgeries are done under a local anaesthetic and the patient goes home straightway. ( Had I been operated on in KL, it would have been under local anaethesia.) But I don’t see how that can be comfortable for the patient. In the 2 hours "as I lay sleeping" under anaesthesia, with a clamp to keep my right eye open, Dr PK made two incisions in my right eye, on both sides of my pupil. Through a microscope, he then removed the vitreous( gel like liquid) to get to my retina( which really is at the back of my eye) He repaired the two tears on my retina by cryotherapy, removed all the burst blood vessels-probably sucked out at the same time the vitreous gel was removed ( which were causing the floaters) then reattached the retina and the macula as well. Pretty complicated stuff and such a delicate procedure! ( A month later, I youtubed some videos of retinal detachment surgeries, I was almost sick, & slept really badly after, as it’s not a pretty sight AT ALL, and I am NOT a squeamish person!) The anaesthesia worked so well that I didn’t come to until about 11pm that night. They had difficulty slapping me awake. I may have lost a few good cells but that's a small price to pay.

M was hugely relieved when the surgeon came to my room to wake him up to relay the good news, that the surgery was a success, and all would be well. He then told me that between 9.45 to 11pm, I was delirious, holding his hand, and moaning to him that my eye was painful. But I have absolutely no recollection of this. I remember being moved to my room and onto my bed and had to lie in a face-down position for the entire night as the viscous silicone oil which is a tamponade to help seal the retina flat back to my eye ball won’t run upwards. Normally gas( which will dissolve naturally) is inserted to buffer the retina but that would mean absolutely no flying for at least 3 months. As I had to return to KL in the 3 weeks, silicone oil was used, ( I will, however, need another procedure to remove the viscous silicone oil in the next 2 months which to me is a bugger, as that means the redness of my eye won’t fade for another few months.)

I think I mostly slept well that night in the hospital. I was worried about M and the kids getting home to the apartment so late in the night. The nurses kept checking on me, checking my pressure, my drip, etc. I really felt quite positive the morning after even with a bandage on my eye. I was wheeled down just before 7.30am for Dr PK to check on me but he wasn’t there yet, so the impatient orderly wheeled me back up again. In my sleepy state with my eyes half-closed, I just remembered hazy hospital corridors and busy orderlies and nurses walking about in the early morning, and wondered if the children had slept okay and what M would be feeding them for breakfast. When Dr PK finally arrived, they wheeled me back to the ophthalmology suite and I was reassured by him that my surgery went really well,the worst I would feel was that day, with a sandy feeling inside my eye, and he had even reattached the MACULA which was off as well. ( Having forgotten my biology lessons on the eye, I had to research my macula later, and it’s the centre of the eye that allows us to get a bird’s eye view in our visual field). Because my macula hole was also involved, my visual field on my right eye sees a slight dip/curve when I am reading of looking at straight horizontal lines. The doctor said I didn’t need an eye patch but had to lie on my front or left side for a few weeks. One of the side effects of a retinal attachment is unfortunately an early onset of cataracts( which is in my family history anyway) & in some cases, ptosis( droopy eyelids), etc.

I then returned to my room and pretty much slept through the day. M and the kids got to the hospital by 11, and it was so lovely to see them again, without floaters in my eyes, without the opaque lens feeling. It was so wonderful to see them in high spirits and my fear and doubts the day before vanished in a flash. I was really thankful to be alright. But I think the painkillers were still working and that sedated and calmed me a lot. I even managed to update my facebook status to tell my friends & family who have rallied for me that I was now fine, with my eye sight saved, no less!

I sent M and the kids off to see Paris that I had intended- they happily found their way to the Eiffel Tower and they WALKED up 669 steps up and down to get a bird’s eye view of the City of Light. And they brought back lovely photos to show me. I felt a new awakening by my reattached lense. And a bit subdued. It’s very humbling when something like this happens to you. Medical emergencies are scary no matter what. ( My last one was when I was 20 weeks pregnant with T as we found out that he had a 1 in 100 chance of being a Down Syndrome baby as opposed to 1 in 300, and I had to live with that for about 19 weeks but no matter what, the grace of God was with us then, as it was in Paris with my detached retina).

So I slept and slept, face-down, or propped up with my head down, (probably tired too from a very hectic term, a little bit of jet lag, and just recovering from that along with the shock of surgery abroad.)

I told the good doctor that I would like to stay one more night and then be discharged the next day. So he thoroughly examined again on Thursday, two days after my surgery, and was happy to see that my retina was now flat and reattached, my intraocular pressures had improved as well as my visual acuity. These terms will afterwards become common terms for me as I understood my eye problem better. Oh yes, Dr L, the first doctor, the anterior specialist, who checked me on the first day had found my left eye to be slightly problematic too(with evidence of lattice degeneration and had offered to do a laser photocoagulation for me, but I sought the opinions of Dr W and Dr PK and both agreed that I could do that when I get home. I really didn’t wish to have another medical procedure on my eye, with one retina recently attached and another getting lasered at 4-6 times the price it would cost me to do it at home. Plus if truth be told, I would now actually prefer to be asleep when I am being operated one, and I had told Dr W once that laser surgery to me is worse than being in labour!

One of my meals during my stay. Mushroom poillet and rice with a bottle of Evian!

Two nights after my surgery, I was discharged from the American Hospital. We went to say goodbye to Dr L and to say thank you. In yet another taxi-ride with a slight mad, Merde-chanting French driver, we made our way 'home' and we celebrated by having lunch at the Cafe de Musees near our apartment in the Marais quarter where little T had his first taste of escargots and simply relished them. I just wanted to get to bed and sleep again, and I did. M took the kids to the Tuileries and to Musee D’orsay where the kids had a fun time sneaking photographs of some classic paintings. I was happy that they go to run in the gardens around Tuileries and that they didn’t get lost!

Finally, discharged from the American Hospital, a cloudy summer's day in Paris @ 20 C.

We had a lovely quiet evening as I would do at home. I got used to my routine of a saline eye-wash and instilling various eye drops, including a steroid-based drops and drops for dilation. I only slept on my front with my head down position juxtaposed sometimes with a left-side position. I stopped taking any sort of painkillers the day I left the hospital. Poor little T, who had looked forward to climbing in between us was so mature and understood that he could NOT sleep in-between Mummy and daddy for he might inadvertently kick Mummy’s eye.

The next morning, a Friday morning, we went for my final check up with Dr PK at his lovely private practice( with a very beautiful receptionist), near the Arc d’Triomphe in Avenue Niel in Arr 17. Again, the check-up was very good & thorough, and Dr PK as ever, with his impeccable bed-side manners, was positive and professional and he was determined that we continued with our holiday without any major change in plans. Hence, I was given the all clear to continue with our intended journey, which was a train journey to Brussels/Brugge the following Monday and a flight to Copenhagen the following Wednesday and subsequently two weeks later, another flight to Amsterdam and finally, homeward to KL from Amsterdam. Dr PK was very reassuring, and M, especially felt very comforted by his kindness and generosity. He actually let us leave France without paying his surgical fees as we couldn’t settle it by credit card as his fees were separate from the American Hospital’s. A bank transfer from Denmark was possible a week later. That was kindness and trust beyond belief.

With the kind surgeon who saved my sight.

We spent the last weekend in Paris mainly taking things easier than I would have normally liked it. We didn’t make it to Giverny to see the real water lilies, or to Chartres for the stained glass windows,or to the Phillipe Starck restaurant that I wanted to take the kids to, but no matter, France will always be there, and my eye- sight, possibly not. But as I promised the kids, we did see most of what we had promised to show them- the Eiffel Tower(kids loved it), the Mona Lisa(no big deal), the Arc de Triomphe(symbolic), Champs Elysees(completely over-rated), Parc Villete(comme ci comme ca), walks along the Seine(throughly romantic & therapeutic), the Sorbonne( for inspiration) and on my final morning, we went to Place de Vosges( did I say it's my fav spot for some Muse?) again to look at the square with no floaters swimming this time. And on lovely our final evening, I had the best duck dish that I have had in ages, at a buzzy, provencal bistro near our digs called Chez Janou at 10pm at night with my new Chanel shades on! It was indeed my most 'unforgettable' holiday, ever.

Did I panic? Or wished I had flown home? Not really. You just make the best out of bad situations and stay positive. I rested so well in our apartment in the Marais overlooking a quiet inner garden courtyard, more so than I would have done at home probably. My godsend other half couldn't have coped better and my wonderful children- they were amazing beyond belief!

I do know that I am NOT the anomaly in getting a retinal detachment. On one medical website- the NHS one, it states that it happens to 1 in 10,000 people. 1 in 4 of severe myopes( short-sighted with high power) people have a higher chance of getting it, Asians tend to get it more as we are more Myopic and it has to do with the change in our eyeball (corneal) shape. My myopia has stayed at -7.00 on both eyes since my early twenties and I have worn glasses since I was 11, contact lens since I was 18. And family history counts too- my dad has had eye issues since he was 38 but now at 68, he’s absolutely fine and doesn’t need glasses except for reading. The strange thing that despite my MANY visits to my KL opthalmologist in recent years, NOT ONCE was I told I was high risk in getting a retinal detachment. I was lucky that I had no side effects whatsoever from my first ever GA. I actually woke up feeling high and relaxed! ( But I now have 4 opthalmologists' direct numbers on speed dial, just in case!)

They say that the eyes (les yeux) are the windows of the soul- and what happened to me did open up my soul, however corny it sounds. NEVER ever take your eyes( or any part of your body) for granted; I should know, having also occasionally suffered from another serious recurrent eye problem of uveitis. Don’t take EVER floaters lightly. Get your eyes checked often. My husband now has a private joke with me- “You would have saved your husband a lot more money if you had married an ophthalmologist.”

I have started to take things easy. No more making ten appointments a day and hurtling from this to that, when one would suffice. Me first. Not someone else. Family. Alone time. Walking slowly. Reflection. Naps to rest my eyes. Quietude.

Do I really need a Birkin bag? No. It's more tres chic to have my retina reattached. As for the American Hospital, well, it wasn’t the Four Seasons George V, but it’ll do.

I got to see clearly again, I am so grateful( and very blessed), and it’s a bit je nais se quoi to describe it but it was indeed a miracle. I call it my Paris miracle.

My little nomads helping with the luggage as we head towards Gare du Nord to catch our train to Brussels on our final morning in Paris. My heart breaks into a thousand pieces seeing how intent they were in NOT letting me strain my eye. Bless them.

PS. Had it happened in Siem Reap ten days before while I was there knee-deep in volunteer teaching, perhaps it might have ended up being a Cambodian Catastrophe instead.

PPS. A retinal detachment recovery takes months. I am lucky to be able to see very well with the silicone oil, with only a slightly distorted vision at times if I use only my right eye. I hope that once the silicone oil is removed, my retina will stay reattached and there will be no further complications.

R- August 2012