I was in good hands for my surgery. This is the painting I was talking about yesterday, located in the main greeting room for the company that did my eye surgery. I guess the “Prayer Request” card in my surgery package (where I could ask to have my surgeon, who “believes in the power of prayer,” pray with me personally before the surgery) wasn’t an isolated artifact.
I got a bagful of eyedrops, drugs, and emergency replacement contact lenses. I am on a rigorous regimen of squirting crap into my eyes. The unbelievable thing is that even after several dozen applications, I still miss my eyes regularly, and spatter precious medical drops onto my cheeks and forehead.
At least I’m getting better with the nighttime eye protection, but I can’t help feeling like the human equivalent of a dog in one of those don’t-bite-your-wound cones.
As far as my condition, I feel alert, and my check-up went well. I flinched a bit when the doctor, speaking to her assistant who was taking notes on a computer, said, “right eye… very clean wound.”
Wound? WOUND?!? Lady, pick another word! The good news is that a clean wound is good. And I am healing well. She asked me if I’d had a “sleep” during the day. No, I said. “Gee, you’re gonna feel it tomorrow!” she said.
I guess I was supposed to spend today resting in darkness. Nowhere in my package did it make any reference to this. Nobody told me to stay home, in shadow, and nap. Seems negligent. Luckily, my eyes are still intact, thanks in large part to my near-mutant healing factor.
As for comfort, it feels like I have spent hours swimming in a pool of chlorine; my eyes are sore, and water often, and lights have little haloes around them.
But I can see pretty darned well. Very exciting.
Thanks to everyone who called or emailed to wish me luck and check in on how I’m doing. I really appreciate it.
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