A Million Little Pieces Of My Mind

I was a lifeguard throughout my teens, which equaled spending my entire summers in the sunlight. And, when I was doing this (in the 1960s), the St. Johns County Lifeguard Corps rules didn't allow us to wear sunglasses (probably so we couldn't get away with napping behind them). Besides, I had to wear rather thick eyeglasses anyway, and prescription sunglasses were prohibitively expensive. And then, in later years, I began hiking and then I was again outdoors all the time. And I still didn't wear sunglasses. So…by 71 I had developed cataracts which weren't "ripe". But this year they were, finally, ripe enough to remove. My eye surgeon chose to start on my right eye, and the surgery went really well—much better than I had hoped, since I was kind of worried about having to endure watching someone come at my eye with a knife.

That was actually the only part that scared me, and that's because I have PTSD from the time (bear with me) I was abducted by aliens and they removed my left eyeball, and then replaced it.

But my mom had the surgery done in the late 1990s, and she raved about being able to see again. And she no longer needed glasses! My ex-sister-in-law, Surya, also had it done years ago.

For those of us who have encountered the frustrating and gradual decline in visual clarity due to cataracts, this surgery becomes a beacon of hope. The gradual clouding of my natural lens not only affects one's ability to enjoy life's simple pleasures, but also poses challenges in carrying out everyday tasks (like driving) with ease. From blurred vision to difficulty in distinguishing colors, the impact of cataracts on my life was undeniable. It was like living in a deep fog all the time.

My eye surgeon is Dr. Michael Scanameo of Desert Vista Eye Specialists. I originally saw him some months back; scheduling time at the surgical center means looking far into the future. We spoke of how I mostly use my eyes; I explained that the best focal distance for me would be a few feet, for working on the computer, and watching TV. I am willing to wear glasses for distance, if need be. (Previously, I was quite near-sighted, and have worn "Coke-bottle" glasses since I was in 5th grade.)

So then, finally, yesterday, the day arrived for the surgery on my right eye. Because there would be sedation involved, my grandson, Zach, drove me there and was required to take me home. They wouldn't even allow me to hop in an Uber.

I was supposed to arrive for the surgery at 1 PM, which I did. Of course, I then had to sit in the waiting room. Eventually, a lady named Veronica asked me to her carrel for paper signing.

My first big surprise was that there was a $170 co-pay. No one had actually warned me of this, and I don't get my Social Security check until the 3rd. Could they wait to be paid two days?

The answer was no (from Veronica's supervisor, not her.) Luckily, my daughter came through for me and paid via credit card.

Then I had to sign a bunch of papers on a tablet. Two of them were unusual, in that I'd never been asked to sign anything similar previously. "This page," declared Veronica, "states that Dr. Scanameo does not own or have an interest in Scottsdale Eye Surgery Center or the building."

"Okay," I agreed and signed, wondering why they would make such an issue of this. (I figured out later that they were trying to avoid a lawsuit if my doctor were to do something wrong, or even if I simply wasn't happy with the surgery.)

"And this one," she continued, "states that during the procedure, we'll be taking videos of you the whole time."

I realized she had to inform me because lots of people are sensitive to having their pictures taken, even when they're feeling their best. But I'm not one of them. I was like, "Oh, cool! Can I get a copy for my web site?"

"Oh, no!" she said unequivocally. "The videos are ours. We don't let them go out."

So, they're saving them in case someone sues them. I started thinking, that must happen a lot. Especially when they also took my phone away (not that I could have used it anyway). They also made me turn the phone off before putting it in a bag. At first I thought they were going to put all my valuables in that bag, so I handed the nurse my wallet. She looked confused. "Oh," she said, "you can just keep that in your pants pocket." Hmmm.

They do one eye at a time so I can still see even if there turns out to be a problem. A nurse took a list of any pain medicine I'd taken in the previous 24 hours, even aspirin. This was for the anesthesiologist, who might need to adjust what he planned to give me—except, I hadn't taken any.

Then a handsome man in his 40s appeared, and introduced himself as the anesthesiologist. His aura was brilliant; he exuded confidence and empathy and I immediately felt reassured. (Sadly, I didn't catch his name.)

The nurse asked me to verify which eye was to be operated on, and when I replied, "The right one," she responded by writing an X on my forehead…with a Bic pen. Not only did it hurt (a bit), but even after showering, the mark is still there. (They couldn't use an erasable marker?)

A phlebotomist appeared to connect me to an IV. I hadn't been allowed to eat or drink since 7:30 AM, and this is Arizona; and when I get dehydrated, my veins flatten and become very difficult to work with. However, she succeeded on the second try (my record is nine), and was fairly painless both times so I had no complaints.

The handsome anesthesiologist then appeared with a few syringes, which he inserted into the IV line. There was no counting backwards. I just kind of got really relaxed. The nurse began squirting drops from various bottles into my right eye. She finished by smearing it with something that felt like Vaseline. Now I couldn't see through it at all, and there was something over my left eye, keeping it closed.

I do not remember being wheeled to the operating room. There was no pain or discomfort and I couldn't see what anyone was doing, or even who might have been there. I don't remember anything, really, except a really cool light show, in which all I could see were red and yellow blotches coming at me, like going into hyperspace.

Afterwards, Zach drove me home. I had a transparent eye patch and I could see through it, although my eyelid wanted to stay shut for awhile. However, by 2 hours later, I was working on my computer and watching TV with the new lens in my cornea. Not only did it work perfectly, I noticed that the vision through my left eye was bluer than through my right. Looking through my left eye was like looking through old, yellowed plastic.

Today, the day after, I couldn't tell which eye had been operated on, at least, not by appearance. My eyes looked fine, though at first I thought the X on my forehead was a mysterious bruise. (And this was after I'd showered and scrubbed.)

My only disappointment is that my right eye looks perfectly normal. I was kind of hoping for something cool, like Geordi La Forge's bionic one.

Nevertheless, I can't wait to have the left eye done! I just have to wait for the surgical center to call me to make an appointment.