Thursday, September 24, 2009

Ow my eye, I'm not supposed to get pudding in it!

Lenny has always been one of my favourites. And now we share a mortal fear of pudding.

Recovery from cataract surgery is actually going exceedingly smoothly. Too smoothly, perhaps; I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. But after spending the night decked out in my sassy pirate eye patch, trying hard not to roll over onto my side since that is strictly forbidden, I awoke to a clarity of vision that was almost startling. Of course I mean in the literal sense. Figuratively speaking, my vision is as muddy as ever.

Colours are so vibrant now that they are almost painful to look at. No longer does red look like purple which looks like brown which is pretty similar to blue. Every object has a crisply defined edge. It's like someone has removed that bug-splattered windshield. I keep wandering around the house exclaiming "look at the leaves on that tree over there, I just read the newspaper without reading glasses!" And a little less enthusiastically "I never realized I had that many wrinkles". I knew there had to be a downside.

It wasn't all grins and giggles, though. Aside from the ooginess of the surgery itself, which I will spare you, I had the Spousal Unit steal my patient-who-must-be-cared-for status from under my feet, when he had a rather dramatic little seizure episode during the post-operative home care discussion. A simple vasovagal response to ooginess was the anesthesiologist's diagnosis, but a plummeting pulse and cold clamminess meant that the SU got the gold star treatment. Heart monitor, bp cuff, saline drip, and everyone falling all over themselves to participate in a real medical emergency, livened up the morning for the eye clinc staff. Meanwhile I sat there half blind, hoping that someone would remember to administer the eye drops which were the cause of all the kerfuffle in the first place.

Some people just aren't happy unless they are the centre of attention.

After a 45 minute monitoring of the Spousal Unit's vital signs, during which time he and the anesthesiologist swapped fly fishing stories, we were released into the world. Mr Fainty and the Blind Girl, driving home.

Can't wait to see what happens when they slice up the other eyeball next week.


justrun said...

Woah, now that was a curve ball! Glad you're both okay! Next week, perhaps we find a third person to act as driver, and everyone else take Valium? ;)

umbrellalady said...

I really couldn't help but laugh with you on this one...I think a different driver would definitely be in need SU in good shape to come out fishing (so he can have more stories...)and you to arrive home safely from your next surgery - good to hear that it has been a success and that your wonderful appreciation of visual life around you has returned.

Gifted Typist said...

wow, maybe this will make you a non-zombie. Congratulations. This is wonderful

Unknown said...

Well, aren't you two quite the pair.

Remi said...

Congrats. A zombie with good vision is a dangerous zombie indeed.

Charlie said...

I really hate it when someone tries to upstage one of my sicknesses—selfish, aren't they.

kelly said...

serious? he's that wussy-ish? really?

Evelyne said...

I totally understand how the SU felt, yup, I've been known to easily have vasovagal response way too easily, lol. But I'm glad you're okay.

justacoolcat said...

. . . and yet you still have the green background. Well there's always hope with the other eye.

I'm glad to hear everything is going smoothly, attention stealing aside. When is your special man friend going to learn that this is your blog?

Wandering Coyote said...

This is exactly how I imagine laser surgery would change my life should I ever be able to afford it. Though this is unlikely, I CAN dream of crystal clear vision without glasses...Sigh...

Glad you are recovering well, but so sorry to hear of the SU's episode!

BeckEye said...

Glad you're recovering well. And hey, it's almost Halloween, so you can hang on to that patch and be a zombie pirate!

bloody awful poetry said...

Glad to hear you're doing well! And your adventures in new, claified vision reminded me of the first time I saw the world with glasses on. It's sort of like being reborn, isn't it? The crisply defined edges on everything are probably the best part.
And that was terribly rude of the Spousal Unit to steal all your attention. Has he no consideration for your ego?

Allison said...

It certainly seems like the men in our lives cannot handle the in depth medical talks, eh? *eye roll* No wait, no eye rolling for you! ;)

I'm glad to hear that both zombies are doing well, and I'm with justrun, perhaps a driver is needed for the next round.

Its going to be so nice not to have to wear glasses!

Barbara Bruederlin said...

Excellent suggestion, Justrun. You're not busy, are you? You had always meant to visit Calgary, right?

I think the SU should stick to fishing and not take up recreational eye surgery as an interest, Kathy. Probably best for everybody.

It's a start on my non-zombiefication, Gifted. Skin grafts are next.

We are getting a family photo with apron and pitchfork next, Dr M.

I really shoulda had the lazer eye implanted, Remi. That would have made me a truly powerful zombie.

I know, Charlie! This was my moment, god damn it. Who's the patient here anyway?

It is apparently a previously undetected deeply buried vein of wussiness, Kelly. Didn't see it coming.

Barbara Bruederlin said...

Remind me never to attend a medical conference with the two of you, Evelyne. I will be picking up fainters all over the place.

Not a fan of the green, are you, JustA? Why didn't you say so? (I have been known to find it a little oppressive at times myself)
I guess it's only fair that if I use him as blog fodder, the SU gets to take centre page occasionally.

I'll bet laser surgery would be even better, Wandering Coyote, no slicing involved. I hope you do get to have that done some day.

It's really a futuristic designed eyepatch too, Beckeye. I could be a Bladerunner zombie pirate. Oh yeah!

No consideration at all, BAP. I don't recall anything about this in the marriage vows.
I am reborn! I am a born again sighted person! And we all know those are the very worst kind.

It's been tough holding off on the eye rolling, Al. I'm not kidding you, that is a vital part of my communication skills. It;'s like trying to talk with your hands tied behind your back. Half the message gets lost.

kelly said...

i hope you never let him forget it and you bring it up at every dinner party...snicker

John Mutford said...

Everytime you starte talking abnout eyer surguery I start toi hypoerventilate and can't semm ti get enlough oxygeb to my brainsn. Good lennly quote though,

Barbara Bruederlin said...

Every single dinner party, Kelly. Brunches as well.

For god's sake, sit down and put your feet up, John! I am in no mood to drive anyone to Emerg today.