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

Pre-surgery blues of a wonky-eyed girl

Pre-surgery blues of a wonky eyed girl

Image of a detached retina in the eye.

I don’t know which is worse, having an emergency surgery while on holiday in Europe, or planning for a scheduled one while working and in the throes of a tumultuous term filled with deadlines. I have had to tell all my classes that I will be away for about 2 weeks but they won’t be missing too many classes as they will be away at camp next week. Most of them are very genuinely concerned and very sweet. They have been accustomed to see me teach in my sunglasses for about 5 weeks now. But I had a 12 year old ask me with the brightest eyes, the most earnest of expressions and with the most pronounced Scottish accent- “Miss, what if the surgeon does something wrong, and makes you blind?” I had to laugh at that innocence, that honesty and that “Christ- kids do say the darnest things” statement! I told little A that I have every faith that I will be alright and I will be right back with my good eyes all, doing poetry in Jamaican accents and analyzing Blake’s Chimney Sweeper in no time. And if they were naughty, they’ll have lunch break detentions with me soon! My Year 12s were definitely more mature about my impending absence and they have assured me that the poetry assemblies we have planned will go ahead and they can be counted on to deliver them and they will be fine without me with them in Singapore on Camp Week! With my creative writing club, we have made a pact to write the scariest ghost stories and will meet again on Oct 31st to celebrate Halloween together! I told them I’ll have my ‘spying eyes’ watching their every move and making sure that all will be good. Of the 100 or so students whose lives I touch and whose lives touch mine weekly, many came by to wish me good luck, and told me they will be thinking of me with love & light. That’s really sweet. I have had loads of phonecalls from lovely aunts and concerned friends offering help and such. It’s such a different experience to my sudden emergency in Paris!

My own children told me that they have been praying for me every night. But they also told me that they are not worried as their mummy is very brave. My eldest girl is going to make me a David Guetta and U2 playlist with a little Baroque and Opera added in. My ever faithful rock of Gibraltar has cancelled all his appointments for tomorrow and will wait for me until my discharge from the specialist eye centre. He has not once failed to go with me to my countless eye appointments even though I said I can have the driver drive me. That’s pure devotion for which I am so grateful for. In sickness and in health.

As for the surgery itself although it’s a double procedure of removing the silicone oil and adding an intra ocular lense(IOL) onto my recently operated eye due to a cataract, it will apparently be routine, like going for a long eye examination. The nurse at the eye hospital told me that I won’t even get a bed to lie down after the surgery. I’ll get a sofa as I won’t be under GA or sedation. I’ll have local anaesthesia and was told to just bring a change of clothes. That’s good to know. As my eye centre is right next to my favourite mall in the whole wide world, perhaps I can pop over to the shops for a look after! ( kidding) I did tell the lady at Laura Mercier that I’ll be back soon!

Preparation for cover work for all my classes has been stressful. That means Julius Caesar lesson planning, IGCSE coursework and Susan Hill’s gothic novel analysis and reading assessments for the younger classes and activities that won’t mollify and muddle the cover/supply staff. I was even contemplating doing my surgery after a hard day’s work, i.e. after my favourite creative writing CCA on Wed. But I think that’s stretching it a bit too much. I should stop priotising work especially given the fragile state of my eyes. So, Thursday morning it will be.

Got to stay away from such fine eye work for a while after my double whammy procedure of silicone oil removal cum cataract surgery.

Last weekend, I treated myself to a foot massage and a facial, especially, since I won’t be able to have facial manipulations for a while. I didn’t bother with a pedicure for obvious reasons. You can never have nail varnish in an operating theatre.

I am a tad nervous but I have sought the opinion of my kind French ophthalmologist as well about this coming double surgery and I think I will be okay. This was after my frank discussion with my very experienced Malaysian ophthalmologist who was also quite blunt in his analogy of describing what my impending surgery will entail. When I asked, “Will you be making a big incision to drain out the oil in my eye or will you use the cannula irrigation method"? Answer: I’ll use a better finer method and try to drain it all out as much as possible and I will use the same incision to insert the news lense. My next question, What happens to the oil residue if any? Answer: They might form into clots or bubbles and become floaters. What? Why can’t ALL the oil be removed? It’s almost a catch 22- between silicone oil and gas. Both have their pros and cons, It’s like washing a greasy plate without detergent. Ok… (my brow furrowed?) You try to rinse out as much as the oil but you can’t guarantee it will all be removed if you don’t use detergent right? ( I started having an image of my eye going round and round a dish-washer minus the soapy suds and the oily residue doesn’t all come off. Not the best image to have before getting into surgery mode.

After having had ze best dream French medical treatment, it’s frankly quite a comedown, god-awful bedside manners-wise. No wonder, you pay for what you get. Private medical care in Malaysia is one of the cheapest in the world, and coupled with the MCP mentality of surgical demigods, I guess I’ll just have to manage my expectations. But I am sure my very experienced surgeon knows what he is doing and I really shouldn’t be doubting him. But goodness me, a little TACT would have been nice! For the surgeon, it may just be 'another day at the office" but for us patients, I think they forget that it's quite a stressful part of their lives!!!(Here I go in my “formidable femme fatale” mode again, as my better half would quip!)

This double surgery is not going to cost me the price of a Birkin bag but at least I’ll be 10 minutes from home. I may even take photos of the OT with my iphone since I am only going to be locally anaesthesised- again- kidding! I will have to learn to equilibrate both my eyes after the surgery as my untreated eye is still highly myopic. And the operated eye will hopefully attain the best visual acuity that it can be. And let’s hope that my retina will stay INTACT!

We shall see. But oh yes, I definitely have seriously mucked–up, bad luck eyes but I am still filled with gratitude. I am blessed. Right now, my adorable little boy is waiting for me to dance with him. So, wish me luck...

Wonky eyed girl

3 Oct 2012

Diary of a Wonky-Eyed Girl

17 Sept 2012

Possibly the most unglam photo of me online-just before my discharge from the American Hospital of Paris. But with my seeing eyes wide open and oh so happy!

It has been exactly two months since my delicate emergency eye operation in Paris. How fast does time fly? Some of my lady friends are still teasing me about being 'fancy', to end up in, of all cities, gay Paree, with a surgery. After the surgery, I still had about 6 weeks’ worth of holidays, half of which was spent mostly in Europe. I had three weeks left upon our return to KL which was spent with follow up check-ups with my KL doctor then a few relaxing days in Singapore with my second sister and a couple of precious nights in Phuket with my husband sans children. Despite the one long haul flight home and 6 short haul flights that I had undertaken since my surgery, I am all good.

My eye about 2.5 weeks after the surgery- in Amsterdam.

Apart from that I have been home, trying to do what I DON’T do best. Relax, rest and stay still. About 3 weeks ago, I went back to work, and though challenging, I am getting used to it by now though it involves a lot of fine eye work!

On a daily basis people, I have colleagues and students asking me about my eye. People are quite sweet and very genuine with their concerns. Some are quite direct, others, nosey. Like one day last week, the library girls asked me why one eye was smaller than the other. It’s so Malaysian and so in your face and I patiently explained to them the lazy eye syndrome as I am not using my right eye as much. They looked shocked & almost felt sorry for me! Or when an elderly church member exclaimed loudly, ‘Wah, your eyes are still red, ah, you poor thing! You must Lie Down, Lie Down!” or this other person who kept making MY eye problem HER issue! or they stare, and ask if I am in pain. I am not! I think next time, I’ll just keep my sunglasses on and spare people the awkwardness. But mostly & thankfully, people are kind and concerned.

About 4 weeks after my surgery, back home in KL.

So I thought I’d write a diary.

You know that endearing classic Van Morrison song, “Brown- eyed girl”? Now hubby sings that song to me except he has changed the lyrics to ‘you’re my WONKY eyed girl. It’s one of my all-time favourite songs, so I don’t mind. “Wonky”, my eye still is though my visual acuity(with silicone oil) is now about 6/12 or 6/15 on most check -ups. I had to go off my steroid drops because my ocular pressure shot up so now I am steroid free. However at the last check up, my opthalmologist has detected that I am starting to show signs of cataract. I wasn’t surprised as my dad had his cataracts done when he was only 38. I know cataract problems are usually linked to geriatrics. I am hardly one, YET, but my eyes apparently are. SO he will monitor it at my next retinal examination, and he may just FIX ME UP at my next surgery when he removes the silicone oil. And NO, I am NOT going back to Paris for the second surgery and to do a spot of shopping, ladies! Though it's very tempting!

Every day is still a blessing. I did not go blind. I am blessed. I can see! Medical science and amazing surgeons do exist and they are great.

I have heard of WORST cases of retinal detachments.

I have been lucky. Last week I stumbled upon a blog by a guy in Canada who had 4 successive retinal detachments on the same eye and finally, he had a similar eye operation as mine, but he kept going blind. He stopped updating his blog at the end of Sept 2009, so I shudder to think what would have happened to him. I only hope he’s fine.

My scary wonky eye look!

I have got used to relying on my untreated eye MORE which has become a habit, which is bad for my treated eye, so I had to change the prescription of my glasses temporarily to even out both eyes. Hey, bring it on, last week my GOOD eye came down with conjuntivitis, as though saying “GIVE ME A BREAK!” Sometimes I go without my contact lens on the untreated eye so I use my wonky eye so it doesn’t get lazy or smaller. I try to read with only my wonky eye only for at least 20 minutes a day. I also test my eye sight by closing one hand one each eye on a daily basis, sometimes a few times a day! :) At the back of my mind, I worry a little bit about my 'good' eye too. The French doctors have discovered that I have signs of lattice degeneration( where the periphercal retina becomes atrophic) on that eye. Laser thereapy has been recommended but my opthalmologist here says to leave it alone at the moment. Let the macula-off retinal detachment eye recover as much as it can first.

As I shared in my poem, I am VERY paranoid of floaters now- any spots, or flying mosquito or black dots in the distance can sometimes shake me to the core. At my morning hill walk today, I saw a bird in the distance, and thought it was a floater in my eye, that’s how scary it gets, sometimes. But mostly I am very calm. I am very conscious of my head position especially when lying down. I try not to look up at the ceiling AT ALL COSTS. I still sleep on my side, or on my front, very conscious of the viscousity of the oil in my eye. A couple of weeks ago, I made the mistake of looking up into the sky when taking a shower, and saw bits of floaters ABOVE the silicone oil level, and panicked. My dr here says it’s ok, it’s the oil that’s causing the instability inside my eye. It looks like we are going to have the silicone oil removal surgery on the first week of Oct. My KL surgeon is going to France for most of September and he shoots off to Italy for a congress in mid Oct and he wants be around from early Oct till mid Oct to monitor me in case there are any complications post-silicone oil removal.

Fingers crossed. SO my next surgery using local anaesthesia will most likely be on Oct 3.

In these 2 months, I have heard of 3 other people having retinal detachments over the summer. So I know I am not alone, one man is in his 50s, a lady in her 30s and a young man, just 22. So it’s not exactly an age thing. One guy I know can't play tennis anymore as he keeps missing the ball! Thank goodness I am not into contact sports.

I have gone back to most normal activities. I can drive easily but gently with one side of my contacts. I have resumed my weekend 12km hill walks by mostly looking down, and I stop myself from running on rough pavements. I haven’t started swimming again, at least with my head fully submerged in the pool. Because of the incisions in my eye, sometimes the redness flares up, especially now that I am off my steroid eye drops. I am not sure how chlorine will react to it but I am sure it will be ok.

The specialist eye centre that I go to in KL is always FULL of patients!

I still daren’t go for my monthly facial yet, lest the manipulations cause any redetachment. I can’t walk our big dog Sparky, as he’s huge and he might yank my eye off. Luckily, I don’t wear any eye make-up so that hasn’t been an issue at all. I have been taking more berries of all kinds- goji berries, blue berries, eye berries:)and been drinking copious amounts of fresh carrot juice. For whatever it’s worth, if they don't help my eyes, I am keeping my other internal organs healthy. It's funny that it takes something like this to force me to keep my head down, literally!

I miss, miss, miss CARRYING my 5 year old and swinging him about. He’s about 20kg and that’s the weight that I am not supposed to haul, at least not yet until I am a 100% sure I am ok. My greatest struggle really is to remember that I need to take it easy. But sometimes that's easier said than done.

My students, bless them, are used to seeing me teach in my shades as sometimes the glare from the sunlight outside or the florescent lighting in the classroom can be unsettling. There is no pain, but just a mild discomfort when the glare hits my eye. I can also feel that my cataract is setting in. Oh joy!

I still hate getting my eyes dilated every time I am at my eye clinic. The KL dilation drops seem to be so potent that I feel awful for hours on end- and can’t use my eyes to read for at least 6-7 hours afterwards. The nurse says it's because my iris is too small that they have to top up the dilation dose for me. The ones in Paris were fine after just a couple of hours. I am not comparing.

As for reading, it’s part and parcel of my occupational hazard so how do I cut down on that? I must know when to rest my eyes when they get tired.

In the meantime, being wonky-eyed has its perks- I get to wear my Chanel shades all the time, get cat-whistled, “Hey, Jackie O,” and my Year 7s think I am a dictionary with cool shades, and best of all, my other half has hired a personal driver to chauffeur me around. What more could a girl ask for?

I could SO get used to THIS! Wonky eyed tai-tai!

And please don’t laugh at my eye pictures here- they were a personal photo journal to track the progress of my healing!

I am keeping everything crossed & praying that Oct 3/4 will be a success!

Till then, c'est la vie!

A bit of wonky-eyed glamour!

R- Sept 17 2012

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