From the journal: Day 1296 November 12th.
Autumn Sun for cataract surgery at 1:30. The first nurse puts some drops in my eye. The right one. He has asked me to confirm it is the right one I am having the cataracts removed. I cannot be sure, but surely the reams of paperwork from my pre op will be clear. He agrees and marks my forehead with a big blue arrow with a sharpie.
In the next waiting room I take a selfie of my eyes with the prominent arrow. Of course when I look at it on the screen its is on my left as the image is flipped. The next nurse Julie, is very pleasant and puts a hair blue net hat on my head and gives me more drops which I think were anaesthetics. The next stage is the ward where I meet the surgeon who I ask if I can take a photograph?: ‘Sure before and after the surgery’. I had hoped to have an image of my eye during surgery to add to my internal images that may become important starting points for personalised artworks, but it didn’t seem like an option. As I was being positioned on the surgery bed I didn’t think it appropriate to ask for a surgery photo.
Maybe next time, if I have another op, as I know the set-up now. Perhaps an image from the monitor that the surgeon will observing is the most likely option. A nurse next to the bed with a liquid-delivering machine enquires that I want a photograph. I responded that I’m excited to have the op. She replies with a smile: ‘great, I’m excited that you are excited’. Another surgeon talks me through the procedure as she puts a rubber glove over the periscope handle on the device above me, then puts a blanket over my head and chest and fixes it with a window to access my eye to operate. She administers more drops and swings the device over my eye and switches the light on.
BLINDINGLY BRIGHT! And a surprise that makes me flinch. Realising I was shocked and in a bit of pain, she quickly put her hand between the microscope and my eye to protect me, apologised and explained that this bright light would be on throughout the op, and I should see three circles of the brightest light at this stage. I confirm I do. I settle after the light shock, and she begins. As I can see nothing I imagine that she is looking through the microscope at my illuminated eye as she makes the small incision to get her implements into the eye to break up the cataract and remove it. After keeping my head still in the face of much white light and the odd visual movement that indicates her manipulations inside my eye her disembodied voice lets me know: ‘that’s the cataract out. I’ll do some Polishing’. It remains bright and blurry and from time to time surrounding clearer lights comes into focus as she continues. I’ve lost all sense of time. I hear an electronic continuous sound and the nurse by me says don’t worry about this sound it’s me switching on the liquid flow.
Surgeon: ‘Putting the new lens in’.
The procedure continues as I stare into the bright white light. The three blurry circle of light are now more clearly defined. ‘More Polishing’
‘That’s it, all done. Perfect. You get an A star!’
‘I think its you that gets the AStar I reply’.
Julie returns to my bedside and helps me to sit vertical and the ward surgeon returns with my phone a takes a post surgery photo. I automatically put both my thumbs up to signify success. They are happy that I am so demonstrative.
There is no image of my eye on the monitor so I do not have the opportunity to request a photo as I am ushered out to see the post op nurse, Lisa.
My eye is blurry for the moment as she explains what I must do over the next few days and weeks. Eye shield tonight. Wash with supplied cloths. Wash hands at all times as I administer Drops 4 times a day. No heavy lifting, driving after 48 hours if you can read number plates at 20mtrs. Bowls after two weeks. Make appointment with optician.
Later at home I have a neat exchange with Louie on his voice over and tracked donation results. He asks how the surgery went and I send pics of the arrow. He’s amazed at the size of the dilated pupil.
