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So I Had This Cataract Taken Off….
So, I had this cataract in my left eye. It’s gone now. The vision is still a bit fuzzy, but the main impediment is gone. That’s good. Getting there…eh, let’s just say I’d rather not have to do it again. I’m sure I will; I have one in my right eye. But it’s not bad enough yet. With regard to what follows, I have no criticism of the doctor. He did a great job. Much of my discomfort was from my own imagination.
It seems that when you have a cataract removed the first step is to numb your eye. If you’ve been to the ophthalmologist before you know that before they stick that 500,000 candlepower light in your eye, they put numbing drops in. They do that for cataract surgery too, but that’s not the anesthesia. No, they start an IV and they give you Propofol. That’s right, the Michael Jackson Sleep Forever drug. One minute you’re regaling the doctor about the case you had with Propofol in it, and the next minute you’re wondering why your left eye doesn’t work anymore. That’s because they knock you completely out to put a needle the size of the Seattle Space Needle into your cheek, down about 14 inches, and inject you with the liquid napalm that ensures your eye won’t feel anything, or move. But you feel kind of goofy, so you’re cool when the doctor sits down and says “we’re going to fix the cataract now.”
“Wait a minute, what about the happy juice?”
“We’d have to ask the anesthesiologist. You’ll be fine.” He was right about this.
And with that, the eye surgery begins. You can almost make out the two bulbs of the surgery light above you before the whole world through your left eye starts jiggling. And then there is this gauzing out of your entire visual field in that eye. Because your eye is totally numb, and paralyzed, you can’t focus your eye. Which is probably a good thing, because your lens is now a shadow of its former self. After what seems like forever you feel some pressure and then you see those two lights again, this time more clearly.
“Cataract’s out, lens is in,” the doctor says. He then puts in a stent to control eye pressure, and the nurse dutifully bastes your eyes in some conglomeration of goo and slaps a bandage over your eye that makes you look like you failed pirate school.
“See you tomorrow,” the doctor says.
Because they’re thorough they have already called in, and you’ve already picked up your post-op eye drops which begin the afternoon of the next day after the patch comes off. One drop is a steroid, one is an anti-inflammatory, and one is an antibiotic. That seems prudent. So, you put in the steroid, and you notice that the drop burns a little. You know the drug is supposed to reduce inflammation, but you wonder how that can be when it is mildly uncomfortable at best.
Oh, but the fun has not begun yet. Because the only thing that’s really uncomfortable about this surgery is the post-op eye drops. The rest is, really, a breeze.
Your next drop (which you wait five minutes to put in so you can truly enjoy the prednisone’s lingering effects) is an antibiotic and it doesn’t burn at all. That’s a nice change of pace. Then comes the Ketorolac, the anti-inflammatory. One drop in the old eyeball.
Sweet Jesus!
“Did I get the wrong bottle?”
My wife assures me I did not.
What manner of torture is this? Did the Tabasco company start making eye drops? As you scream and dance around in tiny circles, now half-blind you wonder what the conversation must have been like that day at the drug company
“Max,” the CEO says, “we need a marketing gimmick for this Ketorolac stuff.”
“What’s it do?”
“Reduces inflammation.”
“We could call it a soothing eye bath for your …”
“Nope. Stop. Been done. We need something that will really grab their attention.”
Across the room, Igor, Max’s assistant speaks up. Sounding vaguely like Bela Lugosi he says “put lemon juice in it…” He then emits a laugh that cackles across the rafters.
“Igor, please…”
“I think he’s onto something,” the CEO says.
“Boss,” Max says, “lemon juice would make it burn like fire!”
“Exactly,” the CEO says. “Call Frank in Marketing. This will be our big roll out gimmick.”
“Boss, burn. As in: it will hurt like hell. How is that going to sell the drug?”
“Max, buddy, the doctors prescribe it, they don’t use it!”
“But boss…”
“Max,” the CEO says, “weren’t you ever a kid? You know the reason medicine tastes bad is to show you it’s working. Well, we just use that analytical framework. People will love it.”
“Heh Heh.. maybe put in some Tabasco,” Igor says.
“Igor!”
“Brilliant,” the CEO shouts. “Just brilliant. Max, make it happen!”
When you finally stop tap-dancing like a three-legged man in a minefield, you look at your instructions. You only have to do this eyedrop three more times today.
It’s hard to contain your joy.
But your eye works.
Your vision is clearing.
And those bullets are not that bad to bite on so long as you don’t swallow them.
Published in Healthcare
Well, fuchsia self.
That was very kind of you sir. I appreciate your confidence, and I will continue to keep trying to earn it.
I had cataract surgery a year and a half ago. I had been noticing a decline in my visual acuity for some time. It began with a simple halo around lights at night. My eye doctor told me that I had an insipient cataract forming several years before that and what to expect. It had finally gotten to the point that realized I was losing the sight in my right eye and could not depend on it. I am right handed, so I was aware that my left eye was actually my dominant eye. However, I shoot rifles, pistols, and bow and arrow, and use my right eye to aim, so the cataract was becoming a problem. For a time I was able to continue to shoot my bow using my left eye and compensating for the parallax view, but I knew that was not going to work for long. I made an appointment at Kaiser Permanente with an eye doctor, got a referral, had an examination by a surgeon, and got an appointment scheduled. I have had two prior surgeries in recent years, one a sinus surgery, the other a correction of a hiatus hernia. In both cases I had looked for and watched YouTube videos of the procedures. I decided to do the same with the cataract surgery. It was a bit scary, but I was committed to getting it done, so I watched and became familiar with the procedure.
My surgeon was a young East Indian woman, very attractive and very professional. I was in and out of surgery in about an hour total. A few hours after surgery I was able to remove the metal protector from my eye so that I could administer the first of a month’s worth of eye drops. I was amazed at how clearly I could see, and it only got better over the next 24 hours. I actually drove to my appointment the next day, even though the recommended that I be driven there. I live alone, and really didn’t want to impose on anyone. I had had no pain, no discomfort at all. I continued wear the protective cover during the night for a couple of weeks, administered eye drops on a regular declining schedule, and really enjoyed the new lease on life which being able to see the way I had at a younger age really felt like. My vision in my left eye is steadily deteriorating. I notice that I tend to close it when I am reading because it is blurry. Two things are currently keeping me from requesting an appointment, Covid (I am avoiding any medical offices until this thing is resolved), and the fact that following surgery I cannot do any exercising for a week. The latter is more of a problem for me than the former. I will eventually get the second eye done. It is just too easy, and the results just too satisfying.
Depending on the injection, the block will paralyze your eye muscles so you can’t move them- moving your head or blinking might be a problem but they place a device (retractor) on your lids so you can’t blink and usually put a pillow around your head to make it hard to move.