March 12, 2008 02:06 pm
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ON SECOND THOUGHT
By Carol Ferguson
If anything will convince you you’re gliding into the golden years with increasing speed, it’s these three little words from a doctor:
“You have cataracts.”
I hadn’t yet reached the point of crashing into the furniture, and I could still read books, but for some time much of the world had been going into soft focus — despite my wearing glasses.
Meeting friends in a restaurant, for example, I could no longer distinguish faces across the room, and I found myself heading toward the tables of folks who turned out to be complete strangers.
If any of you readers have ever stood at the front counter in the Herald-Banner office and waved at me, I probably waved back and then thought, “Who the heck is that?”
For the last few months I’d given up driving after dark because the headlights of oncoming cars were no longer merely round lights — they had turned into starbursts which were distracting and alarming, to say the least.
The onset of cataracts was not exactly a shock. A number of friends in my age group have faced the same situation and gone through successful surgery to correct the condition. “You will be so glad you’ve had it done,” they said.
So I made an appointment with ophthalmologist Dr. Edward Hurst. An eye exam and cataract assessment revealed that both eyes required surgery to remove my cataract-clouded lenses.
The date for the operation on my right eye was set for 11 a.m., Feb. 6.
For those of you who are interested in the marvels of today’s medical science, I’ll walk you through it. No gore, I promise.
Like many other people, I had been under the impression that cataract surgery is done by laser. Apparently I was confusing it with LASIK (laser-assisted in-situ keratomileusis) which is laser surgery used to correct shortsighted, farsighted and astigmatic conditions.
In cataract surgery, the ophthalmologist makes a small incision with a tiny instrument, removes your lens which was clouded by the cataract and replaces it with an artificial lens — either silicone or, if the patient is diabetic, acrylic.
Two days prior to surgery, the patient begins to put drops in the one eye — an antibiotic solution and another which is anti-inflammatory — and this continues after the surgery.
I arrived at the surgical center feeling rather wispy, with no food or drink since midnight. Wearing no makeup or jewelry, I felt I could easily blend into the pastel background. The medical staff, however, was the soul of kindness. No one even laughed when I came out of the dressing room with my surgical gown on backwards. (Why is it so difficult to remember whether it opens up the back or the front?)
Thanks to topical anesthetic drops, I was comfortable and fully conscious during the procedure which took about 15-20 minutes. Another anesthetic had already been introduced through a needle inserted in a vein in my hand, intended merely to calm you to the point where you really don’t care what’s happening. Sort of, “OK, whatever.”
No stitches were used, and almost before I knew it, Dr. Hurst was removing the tape which held my head steady on the operating table, and telling me I could sit up.
While I rested in a chair for a short time, a nurse brought me coffee, orange juice and some very nice mini-muffins, a four-star snack.
I was then given more eye-drops — this time a steroid solution — to administer for the next week, and a huge pair of Jackie Kennedy-type sunglasses to wear outdoors until my eye was no longer dilated. In a short time, a nurse walked me out to the car which my husband had brought around to the front door, and off we went.
The instructions were to take it easy the rest of the day: no strenuous activity, no important decisions to make or important papers to sign; in short, my kind of day. The only drawback was that I couldn’t read comfortably because of the dilated eye. So I relaxed in a chair with Sarah the cat, and half watched, half listened to TV.
Vision in that eye improved within a few days — certainly better than before the surgery — but a complete return to clear sight would not occur until both lenses were replaced, my eyes had healed and I could be fitted with new prescription glasses.
Surgery on my left eye took place on Feb. 20. Again, it went like clockwork, and this time I even put on my surgical gown correctly.
When I went back for the post-op exam the next day, I asked Dr. Hurst if he could show me what artificial lenses look like. He kindly obliged with one which, while not exactly the same as mine, was close enough to satisfy a layman’s curiosity. It resembled a contact lens, but with two tiny, hair-like “legs” at the edge, which tissue will eventually heal over, making it a permanent part of the eye.
He also loaned me several VCR tapes showing cataract operations in progress — fascinating!
A patient waits two weeks before having eyes tested again for new prescription glasses, giving vision a chance to stabilize. Within a day after the second surgery, however, I could see a drastic improvement in distance vision — the world was coming back into focus.
The refraction tests were last week, and I am eagerly awaiting arrival of the new glasses. In the interim I’m wearing a pair of inexpensive over-the-counter reading glasses as a temporary aid.
Dr. Hurst tells his patients that, as with any surgical procedure, there is risk involved. However, the success rate on cataract surgery is 97 to 98 percent, and I’ll take those odds any day.
This whole series of events has been an exciting adventure, and I am grateful for the thoughtful treatment I’ve received from Dr. Hurst as well as staff members Cheri, Dee, Annette and others whose names I’ve forgotten.
To paraphrase Bogart’s line from the film, “Casablanca,” here’s looking at you, kids!
Ferguson is a feature writer for the Herald-Banner.
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