As I was getting out of the shower, I heard the phone ring. Jacob answered it downstairs. Since he didn’t come up to mention the call, I figured it wasn’t for me. Minutes later, after taking my morning eye drop, Jake came in and told me my mom called. He went on to tell me that my mom said my dad was having shortness of breath and chest discomfort and they were going to the hospital. I sat back on the bed and thought about canceling my appointment. Since my mom didn’t ask to get me on the phone, I assumed it was a precautionary trip to the hospital (I later found out my dad didn’t want to go to the hospital, but since he mentioned chest pain, the Maris Grove staff wouldn’t take no for an answer.) I tried to reach my mom on her mobile, but didn’t get an answer. I felt selfish, but I decided I’d keep my doctor’s appointment.

We arrived early for my 9.45 appointment (seven minutes is early for us…) After we checked in, Eliz tried to call my mom. She got the voicemail (and knowing my mom can barely make and receive calls, didn’t leave a message. A minute or two later, Eliz’s phone rang and she handed the phone to me since she needed some insurance info for the receptionist. It was my mom. I spoke to her and then my dad. My mom told me what was going on. My dad told me, “Don’t count the money yet.” At that point, I felt I made the right decision to go to my appointment.

A few minutes later, I went back into (Eye) Pod 1. I was able to read the L (but not the S) on the SL line (which is the 20/200 line.) Dr. Ayres came in a few minutes later. He asked how things were going and I told him about my appointment 12 days earlier with Dr. Garg. He seemed to get defensive when I told him what Dr. Garg said. Dr. Ayres then had a look at both eyes. He started on the right one and quickly moved on to the left after saying, “That one is trash.” This I already knew. I haven’t seen anything but light with that eye since the last century… After he looked at the left eye he told me that it looked pretty similar as previous visits.

He said the transplant looked good, though was less than perfect. (It’s from a 69 year old donor and I’ve had it for two years.) He didn’t see signs of rejection. He said he could do another transplant if I wanted, but he didn’t think it could be too much better. The downside was too steep for me, so we’ll revisit that at a later date. Dr. Ayres also noticed a bit of haze behind the lens implanted in the cataract extraction in April of this year. It’s called posterior capsule opacity. It can be dealt with doing a procedure called YAG laser capsulotomy. He said there is very little downside to this, so I am scheduled to have this done on 20 January. I’m not sure if this counts as my 16th surgery or not…

Once we finished up with my appointment, we headed down Route 1 to Riddle Hospital to see my dad. We spent about three hours with him. The cardiologist met with all of us and said he didn’t think the problem was a heart issue. After running Jane to a friends for a birthday party and a trip to Newark DE to pick up a small order, we returned to Riddle at 5.15. We visited with my dad for about 45 minutes and then took my mom home, stopping for dinner on the way (she treated us to Ruby’s Diner.) My dad was tired and seemed to want us to go. Hopefully he gets some rest and is able to go home tomorrow.

My Eye, My Dad and Our Day is a post from: ICantCU.com | © 2009, iCantCU.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Post tags: answer, chest, chest discomfort, eye, eye drop, line, maris grove, phone, shortness of breadth, trip to the hospital

The appointment started with the typical questions from a tech about how my vision was doing, if I was experiencing any pain or discomfort, etc.  Then it was time to read the chart with my left eye.  The E was not a problem.  The next line, C and D, I could see, but if I didn’t remember it I might have said G instead of C.  The next line, which I now know is DHN, I couldn’t see.  With the pinholes, I was able to make out the H.

She moved on to my right eye.  Good news there, I can still tell if a light is off or on if it is a foot or less away from my eye…  Yippee.  She then put, or should I say shot, drops into both eyes.  God only knows how many, but it was sure more than one of each.  One is to numb the eye to get IOP (pressure) readings, while the other was to dilate my eye.  While she was doing this, she left the chart on, so I continued to try to read it.  She then used a hand-held device to get the IOP (Dr. Ayres calls this device a glorified random number generator.)  IOP was nine in the left and mid to upper 20s in the right.  The previous week at my glaucoma appointment, it was eight in the left and 13 in the right using the standard device (the one that you put your chin in, press your head against the bar, and look at the blue light.)

She waited a minute or two and then tried to get another number on the right eye.  Meanwhile, I’m still trying to read the 20/100 line on the chart.  She then said I was cheating by continuing to attempt to read the line.  Eliz didn’t like what she said and asked how I was cheating if I was just trying to read the chart.  While the lady answered Eliz, I had my hand in front of my eye, trying to simulate the pinholes while still trying to read the line.  Hey, if you don’t want me to keep trying, shut the effing thing off!  As we got up to move to the next exam room, I glanced behind the chair where the chart is bounced off of a mirror and saw that the line was DHN.  Now maybe that was cheating.  How would that help me though?  It’s not like I could get a drivers license for reading the 20/100 line.

In the next room, Dr. Garg came in and asked some questions and then had a look.  He then told me that the only thing left to try were injections in the eye.  Before we try that though, he wanted to get another OCT scan to make sure the risk/reward was worth the attempt (actually, attempts, as it would take several injections over the course of a few months for it to work.)

Tom gave me the OCT scan a few minutes later, then we headed to another exam room.  After a minute or two, Dr. Garg came in and had a look at the scan.  He said that it wouldn’t be worth trying the injections as there was only a 15% chance of them helping me see better.  At that point, I said, “Okay, so there isn’t really anything you can do for me?”  “That’s right,” he replied.  He told me I could come back in five months (why?,) or sooner if I was having any other problems.  He did tell me to make sure that I see him, Dr. Ayres, Dr. Pro, or Dr. Ruffini frequently to get IOP readings.  Seems like ‘roids that I take 2x per day in the left eye could cause the pressure to rise.  Maybe it’s time to see Dr. House, Dr. Riviera, or Oscar Goldman…

So while my vision is not cuckoo bananas (a technical term Dr. Garg used at my last appointment in June,) it’s not good either.  So what do I do now?  Some days, my vision is better than others.  Today, for example, it sucked big time (I suppose that is a technical term I picked up somewhere along the way.)  Maybe I’ll see a little better tomorrow.  I’m not holding my breathe (but would if it would help…)

It’s Not Cuckoo Bananas, But It’s Not Good Either is a post from: ICantCU.com | © 2009, iCantCU.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Post tags: appointment, C.  The, chart, Dr. Ayres, Dr. Garg, Dr. House, Dr. Pro, Dr. Riviera, Dr. Ruffini, eye, God, H. She, iop, line, Oscar Goldman, pinholes, random number generator, retina specialist, Tom, upper 20s

We left the house at 8.15am and traffic was surprisingly light.  Even the road work on the Girard Point Bridge didn’t slow us down.  Things were going great until we were about 25 yards from the parking garage at Wills Eye.  A minivan was at the entrance and the driver seemed like she didn’t want to go in.  Once she noticed us, she proceeded slowly.  She got her parking ticket out of the machine and continued very slowly up into the garage.  We always like to park on the top floor, which is the seventh, because it is the only floor that you don’t have to go to the ground floor, get off the elevator, and then get on a different elevator.  On seven, you walk right into the hospital and grab an elevator to either nine (low vision,) ten (cornea,) or eleven (glaucoma.)

Anyway, after a couple of floors, this lady has a parade of cars behind her.  She sees an open spot and tries to park.  She pulls in at the wrong angle and sees she will hit the car on her left.  Backs up, but doesn’t change her turn at all.  Tries to pull in exactly the same way, then backs up again because she sees she still doesn’t have clearance on her left.  Horns start honking.  People start yelling.  She then just stops.  Seriously.  I ask, “Who’s driving that car, Stevie Wonder?”  She is in the middle of the driveway, blocking us and everyone behind us.  More honking.  More yelling.  Eliz did neither.  She pulls away from the space to give us and everyone else room to get past her.  At this point, I’m regretting coming to this appointment.  We get to seven and head inside.

We sign-in on the eleventh floor and have a seat.  Eliz starts to read out the letters for the word scramble in the newspaper.  My mind is not in shape for figuring these out (I was up until 2.30am researching colognes, perfumes, and other hair and skin care products that can be drop shipped to our customers — watch for them soon on ForYourSalon.com.)  After a couple of minutes we get called to the desk to confirm my info and to pay the copay.  As the receptionist is running our credit card (we always pay by credit card at doctors’ appointments because we’ve been burned in the past by having to prove we paid,) she is distracted from another receptionist talking on her mobile phone.  She realizes as she’s handing Eliz the slip to sign that she charged us $25, not the correct amount of $20.  ”Oh, I’m sorry, I’ve charged you $25.  You don’t mind if we just put the extra $5 on your account, do you?  It really is a pain to void it,” she says.  Eliz says okay and signs the slip.  We head back to the waiting area.  I’m more annoyed now.  I’m not sure if it was just the receptionist I was annoyed with or me for not saying anything about it.  Eliz and I discuss what just happened and then Eliz starts back on the sudoku.  I close my eyes and wait to be called back.

After some time, we get called and head to a room.  The tech takes us to a room we’ve never been in and begins to ask how things are going.  I tell her the same old story.  She then asks about my meds.  I begin to tell her about the eye drops I’m on, while she is reading the meds that were written in my chart from the last appointment.  She interrupts me before I get one med out of my mouth.  She says, “Are you still on Predforte?”   I answer no and again begin to tell her what I’m on.  She interrupts again asks about another steroid, similar to Predforte (but not the one I’m on.)  Again, I say no and say I’m on Durezol, but pronounce it Durzol.  She then says, “Do you mean…” and says something with about something that begins with a “D,” but is about six syllables longer than Dur ez ol.  Eliz and I say no.  This goes on for another couple of minutes and we move on to the next eye drop.  Since it is the newest one, I had ripped the top of the box off and brought it with since I couldn’t see to read the name.  I then have to explain to her several times how it is applied (though it is an eye drop, the cornea doc told me to put it on my finger — it is very thick — and, with my eye closed, rub it along the seam where my lids meet.)  She wasn’t getting it…  The last eye drop was an easy one.  She writes it down and has a look at my eyes.

She asks me to cover my left eye while she shines a light into my right.  She asks if I can see it, which I can.  She moves the light back a foot or two and asks again.  This time I can’t see it.  Okay, now onto the left eye and the eye chart.  I was happy that it was a different chart, one I haven’t memorized.  ”Do you see that,” she asks while showing the big E.  I tell her yes, it is the E.  The next line was a C and a D, which I also am able to read.  I can’t really see the next line, so she hands me the pinholes.  Still no luck.  She says okay and takes the pinholes from me and writes somethings in my chart.  While she’s doing this, I continue to try to see the 20/100 line.  One of the letters in the middle looks like an H or an N.  I ask if that is true and she says, “Yes, it’s an H.  I’ll give you a plus one.”  Hooray.  We then have to go back to the waiting room until there is a room the doctor can see us in.  I’m happy to get away from that know-it-all tech.

After a short wait, we head to a different exam room.  The tech this time is William, who is 43057895743759385473% better than the first tech, puts some drops in my eyes and Dr. Pro walks in.  He greets us and asks me a few questions.  The first couple of answers where fairly short, like, “yeah, it is about the same as the last time I was here.”  He then asks me another question, but after I say about five words, he begins talking to William.  I stop talking.  He says go on.  I start again and he starts talking to William again.  He says continue, but after a few words, his mobile goes off and he checks it to see that it is a doctor that he needs info from (Eliz later told me that he had an emergency surgery scheduled at 10.30am, so it probably had to do with that.)  He hands the phone to William to get the info and asks me to put my head in the machine so he can have a look.  Let’s face it, I really didn’t have anything good to say, and even if I did, I don’t think he was really interested.  He has a look and then takes the IOP of each eye (13 in the right, 8 in the left.)  William has finished on the phone and Dr. Pro starts giving him the info of what he saw in my eyes (besides the blank stare back.)

Dr. Pro then tells me things on the glaucoma side look good.  He says he believes the vision issues I’m having aren’t glaucoma related and it is best for Dr. Ayres (cornea) and Dr. Garg (retina) to figure out was the issue is.  News flash, no one seems to know why my vision came around for those ten days in April after the surgery and then went bye-bye.  Not me, my doctors, or even that voodoo woman named Phyllis.  We shake hands and head to a different reception desk to checkout.

We get to the desk and the receptionist is finishing up with a woman.  When she is done, she says to us, “I’ll be right with you, I’ve just have to send a fax to a doctor.”  Her tone made me believe she meant: You’re done, you’re not as important as a doctor, so just wait a few minutes.  After about five minutes, she starts to help us, but notices the lady before us is still there.  The receptionist asks her if she had a question.  The lady says she was just waiting for an appointment card for her next visit.  The receptionist apologized for not giving her one and writes one out for her.  Now it is our turn.  She reads the form Eliz handed her and says, “You’ll have to call back on Monday.  The doctor wants you to have a Fields test and I can’t schedule that now.”  So, we wasted our time standing there waiting.

Let’s recap:  We wasted nearly three hours (an hour and a half at Wills, plus travel time to and from) on this appointment and wasted over $43 (the $20 copay, the $5 credit we’ll supposedly get for next time, and over $18 for parking — that is with validation, otherwise it would have been $22.)  I told Jake the night before it was going to be a waste of time.  I only wish I could use these Nostradamus powers to select the correct Powerball numbers.

Why Do I Bother? is a post from: ICantCU.com | © 2009, iCantCU.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Post tags: appointment, drop, Eliz, eye, floor, girard point, Jane, parking ticket, Philadelphia, point bridge, schedule appointments, wills eye institute

So we’re driving down Lancaster Ave. after dropping Jane at softball camp at Villanova and we turn on Preston and Steve on WMMR (Eliz is a huge fan.)  They were talking about some guy who was trying to get into the Guinness Book of Records by singing the lowest note ever.  The discussion somehow turned to the Oak Ridge Boys and their hit Elvira (warning, don’t click the link, you won’t be able to get the song out of your head…)  They were talking about how deep one of the members of the band could sing, were making fun of the song and then mentioning that one of the members was from Collingswood, NJ (it is in southern New Jersey.)  I was laughing so hard I was crying.  Tears were streaming down my face for over five minutes.  When they finally stopped, we were just passing St. Joe’s on City Ave.  I grabbed a tissue and wiped my eyes and began to look around.  Things looked clearer to me.  We stopped at a red light and I looked at the trees and buildings and told Eliz that things looked better than before the tears flowed.

We were only a minute or two away (his office is on Presidential Blvd. in the Pagoda Building, just off City Ave.)  We sat in the car for a minute or two since we were early.  I looked at the building and the trees and things still looked better.  Once we walked in, things were still tough to see inside.  We took the elevator to his office and signed in.  Eliz grabbed a magazine and started looking through it.  I glanced at the front cover, but couldn’t make out the title, so I thought my vision was returning to its current normal.  After a few minutes, I was called back to Pod 3 (which I suggested on multiple occasions to rename EyePod 3.)  Tia was the name of the tech and she questioned me about what meds I’ve been taking and how my vision was doing.  Then she turned on the eye chart.  E looked clearer.  So did SL.  I was then able to make out the L first, then the P in the OPLB line.  (As I’ve mentioned before, I know all the lines down to DAO6, the 20/60 line, so I’m never 100% sure I’m actually seeing them.)  There is no alternative 20/100 line other then the OPLB line, like there are for the 20/80 line and better, so I was given credit for seeing the P and the L.  With the pinholes, I tried both the CAV8 (20/80) line and its numerical alternative without being able to read anything.

Dr. Ayres came in a few minutes later and I told him about what happened on the way into the appointment.  He then took a look and had me blink twice.  He noticed that my eye was losing the tear film in about five seconds (he didn’t use a stopwatch, instead opting for the technical Philadelphia, as in one Philadelphia, two Philadelphia, etc.  We always used Mississippi when we played football as kids.  You could blitz on five Mississippi…)  He then explained to Eliz and I that 10 seconds is the norm for the tear film to last after blinking.  I’m not surprised that my eyes aren’t normal.  Never have been, never will be.  He also mentioned that once the eye begins to dry, the visual acuity begins to fall.  He gave me more drops, over the counter lubricating drops for during the day, and a prescription for a drop to use at bedtime.  It is an antibiotic that evidently is somewhat thick.  It is used for infections in the eye, but I was instructed to close my eye and massage it onto the edge of my upper and lower lids.  I’ll let you know how that goes in a few days since I haven’t used it yet.  Dr. Ayres also took me off one of the steroid drops (two less drops per day) and Muro 128 (four times per day.)

Can it be that at least part of my current eye issues were discovered because of Preston and Steve?  Yup!  So, thank you Preston and Steve (and Kathy, Casey, Nick, Marisa, the Oak Ridge Boys, and that guy trying to sing the lowest note!)  Now I just have to hope that the new drop works.  Wish me luck (again…)

Almost Unbelievable… is a post from: ICantCU.com | © 2009, iCantCU.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Post tags: Casey, City, cornea specialist, day, Dr. Ayres, Eliz, Elvira, eye, guinness book of records, Jane, Kathy, L.  With, line, Marisa, Mississippi, Nick, NJ, oak ridge boys, Philadelphia, Presidential Blvd., Preston, preston and steve, southern New Jersey, St. Joe, Steve, Tia, vision, wmmr

Central Vision Visual Fields Test at Wills Eye

One of the problem I’ve noticed is that I seem to have more blind spots, especially in my central vision.  When Eliz and I were working with Jane at softball, I noticed I had trouble following the ball when Eliz would flip the ball to me from three to five feet unless I looked to my right.  I’m not sure what the above test indicates, but since I don’t think I’ve ever had this particular visual fields test I don’t think there is anything to compare it to.

Visual Fields Test Machine in the Glaucoma Dept. at Wills Eye

After my appointment at Wills Eye, Eliz and I walked up Walnut Street and stopped into the Associated Services for the Blind and Visually Impaired.  I had contacted them just before we moved Salon Supplies + Interiors and ForYourSalon.com out of that disaster of a building (which has been condemned, by the way.)  Between the move and setup of the business and waiting to see how things went with the surgery, I didn’t follow up.  Looking back, that seems dumb.  As it stands now, I don’t think things will improve dramatically, if at all.  You may say I’m a pessimist, but I disagree.  I would call myself a realist.  Sure, I can hope and wish, but I’ve been doing that since I was a small child.  Maybe I learn something and gain some confidence.

Visual Fields Test is a post from: ICantCU.com | © 2009, iCantCU.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Post tags: appointment, caption, central vision, Dr. Ayres, Dr. Garg, Dr. Pro, eye, glaucoma specialist, Jane, retina specialist, test, Walnut Street, Wills, wills eye

We didn’t have to wait long in the waiting room.  I was very curious about reading the chart.  The E was not a problem.  I could see the SL on the next line, but it didn’t seem as sharp as my previous appointment about 10 days earlier.  I could not read the OPLB line.  That was a step backward.

When Dr. Ayres came in, I told him about what was going on.  He took a look and said everything seemed about the same as my previous appointment.  No signs of retina detachment, the new lens was still in place, and there was no signs of rejection on the previously transplanted endothelia.  My IOP was at seven, which was down from 10 at my previous appointment.  As he put it, the good news is that it is not a problem from the surgery, but that means I don’t really have any way of fixing the issue.  He prescribed a non-steroidal eye drop just in case there was a little swelling that he didn’t notice.  He said it was like Advil in drop form.

On Tuesday I have a scheduled appointment with Dr. Pro, who is my glaucoma doctor.  I want to have a Fields test, because one of the things I have noticed is more blind spots, especially in my central vision.  Hopefully, he’ll find something that can be corrected.

So, it seems I’ve missed my opportunity to go to the movies or a Phillies game.  It might also be time to learn how to do things without much sight.  I was waiting for the surgery before I tried anything new, but I think it is time.

Going the Wrong Way is a post from: ICantCU.com | © 2009, iCantCU.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Post tags: appointment, central vision, Dr. Ayres, Dr. Pro, eye, eye drop, Friday, phillies game, problem, retina detachment, vision, wills eye

Welcome to the Hotels.com EyeOp XIV Report.  We’ll take you through the entire operation from warm-ups to the very end.  The patient walked in relaxed and comfortable, but lacking any fashion sense in a button down Tigger shirt, grey sweatpants, and sneakers.  At check-in, he was informed of a last-second audible that there would be no transplant on this day, just the cataract extraction.  Not flustered by the surprising news, he moved to the waiting area and went through the word scrambles as quickly as Eliz could read him the letters.  Then, his number was called.  It was time.

In the prep area, he relaxed while Lisa went over the plan and put some “face paint” above his left eye.  There wasn’t a flinch when she put the IV into his left hand.  After a brief meeting with the surgeon, Dr. Ayres — where additional “face paint” was added above the left eye and a reason was given for not being prepared to do the partial cornea transplant (if it wasn’t needed, the tissue would have been wasted) — Dr. Curtis came over to start the IV.  She remarked that the patient already looked relaxed and sleepy before starting the IV.

At 11:06 am, the players took the field.  The patient was so very comfortable, only spoke to the doctor once or twice and enjoyed “twilight” (minus the vampires.)  Within 30 to 45 minutes there was a pat on the shoulder from Dr. Ayers and it was off to recovery.  After a grueling victory, the patient celebrated was a cool cup of water and an apple cinnamon bar.  He was given last minute instructions (keep the shield on, don’t get water — or anything else — in the eye, take 12 eye drops per day, etc,) and put his chai (jewish symbol for life, not spiced Indian tea) necklace back on.  Three hours after arriving, it was time to go home.

The 1-800 Contacts Great Sight of the Day was everything outside!  The grass and the trees looked greener.  The buildings had depth and dimension.  Some signs on buildings could be read.  So far, so good.

So that’s how the Hotels.com EyeOp XIV Report would end.  But the healing continues.  This morning, on our way to the first post op appointment, I was able to see more signs on buildings and stores and read some advertising on buses.  At my appointment, the doctor said everything looked good and I was able to read some of the 20/100 line without the pinholes.  I was even able to read the A in the CAV8 (20/80) line with the pinholes!  The other good news is that I only have to wear the plastic eye shield to bed.  I can also resume ALL normal activities on Monday (until then, no heavy lifting, gardening, or other strenuous activities.)

I watched some of the Flyers and Phillies games tonight.  Wow!  I was amazed at how much I could follow the play in the Flyers game.  I could see the score and time left in the period without getting up off the floor (where I lay, propped up on my left elbow to watch TV.)  Even the Phillies game looked good, though it wasn’t in HD since we have Fios.  I could see the rain pouring down on Halliday…  I was disappointed we didn’t get to Jacob’s lax game before the rain came.  We were in traffic on 202 after our delivery in Wilmington.  My next chance at live sports is Jane’s softball game on Monday.

I am pleased with the results thus far.  I believe I’ll be able to follow a movie on the big screen.  Maybe we’ll try that next weekend.  I am looking forward to trying things that I haven’t been able to do for many years.

EyeOp XIV Report is a post from: ICantCU.com | © 2009, iCantCU.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Post tags: cataract extraction, cornea transplant, Dr. Ayers, Dr. Ayres, Dr. Curtis, eye, face paint, game, Jacob, Jane, John Fecenda, Lisa, patient, post, time, warm ups, Wilmington, word scrambles

I received many well wishes and good lucks today from my friends.  They are all greatly appreciated.  My involvement in this whole thing is easy.  I just have to lay there.  Eliz is the one that has the difficult job.  Beside all she does normally, which is just about everything, she’ll now have even more tasks — put eye drops in (as often as the Dunkin Donuts guy makes the donuts,) read everything to me (including email, orders from ForYourSalon.com, business/news/political/sports sites, and who knows what else,) lead me around everywhere, and do just about all my tasks running the business (which aren’t many, but it is more stuff to do.)  Her father once told me, after I mentioned a small problem Eliz was having, “Sorry, no refunds.”  Who’s looking for the refund now…

At this point, in my mind there were no other solutions to my eye trouble.  I won’t second guess my decision.  I wonder how it will turn out.  I’m hoping the planets are aligned.

Eight Hours from Now… is a post from: ICantCU.com | © 2009, iCantCU.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Post tags: business, cataract extraction, current vision, dunkin donuts, everything, eye, eye trouble, good lucks, surgery, thing

From what I gather, recovery time on the cataract extraction is about half that of the DSAEK (which is about four months.)  Seems like I won’t have to wear that awful eye shield as long with only the cataract coming out.  After the last surgery, I had to wear it for over a month.  Lets not forget the misery on the day after my last surgery.  My IOP went from seven to about 30.  I puked my guts up all day long from the dramatic change in pressure.  Showering was difficult too since I had to make sure I didn’t get any soap or water in my eye.  That was only for a few months.  Eliz will be shaving my head this weekend so that I only need to use a washcloth to wash my head.

I am very excited about the prospects of seeing more than I see now.  Maybe I’ll see well enough to go to the movies again.  I’d love to go and see a few Phils games, or even go see an Eagles game (you know, I’ve never been to the Link.)  If things go really well, maybe I’ll be able to throw a softball around with Jane, a lacrosse ball with Jake, or even read the mail instead of having someone read it to me.

Of course, there are risks and I do worry about something going dreadfully wrong.  I see only light out of my other eye, so any failure would dispose of the fantasies I’ve listed in the previous paragraph and make life a bit more challenging.  I have no idea what I would do then.  Lets just hope for the best.

One Week to Go is a post from: ICantCU.com | © 2009, iCantCU.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Post tags: cataract, cataract extraction, endothelial, endothelial keratoplasty, eye, eye shield, Jake, Jane, lacrosse ball, partial thickness, surgery, transplant

I was not looking forward to another surgery on my left eye until things started going downhill in July.  The problem was, none of the doctors knew what was causing the problem.  The cataract didn’t seem much worse than a few months earlier, if at all.  After going from one specialist to another, it was determined it wasn’t a glaucoma issue or a retina issue.  Lets just hope it is the cataract that is the issue.

I’m having the cataract removed on 15 April (so I guess I’ll send our taxes in early…)  There is also a possibility that I’ll have another DSEK (endothelial transplant.)  The donor endothelia will be in the OR, just in case.  Evidently, removing the cataract risks damaging my now 70 year old endothelia (along with the other common risks associated with this in most people and specific risks for unique individuals, such as myself, with other eye issues.)

I am disappointed that I have to wait that long for the surgery.  I joked with Dr. Ayres that I was ready to have it yanked on Wednesday.  I’m sure I have been less than pleasant to be around at home.  Tonight, I was home alone while Eliz, the kids, and a few of Jane’s friends went to see Alice in Wonderland — I miss going to the movies.  My frustration level is high and it takes me so long to do many basic things.  I am so ready to get the cataract out, it is hard not to get excited.  I’m trying to temper the excitement, since it only leads to disappointment after the surgery (at least after the last three.)

Surgery No. 14 is Set is a post from: ICantCU.com | © 2009, iCantCU.com. All Rights Reserved.

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Post tags: Alice, alice in wonderland, cataract, cornea transplant, Dr. Ayres, Dr. Garg, Dr. Ruffini, DSEK, eye, frustration level, issue, Jane, retina, retina specialist, surgery