Had the opportunity to have a little eye work done this
morning. Wasn’t expecting it to happen today, but glad it did. I find the worst
aspect of medical procedures is the anxiety that builds toward that procedure
out in the future. I tend to spend far too much time worrying about the
possible pain, the what-can-g-wrong, the recovery, etc. The actual procedures
seem to never reach the level of worry and anxiety I put into them.
Back in November, I got an appointment with my
ophthalmologist, Doc Real-Good-Hands, because of a problem resembling a sty on
my right eyelid. There wasn’t much pain, just a little tenderness, but I was
concerned because I woke up every morning with the eye swollen shut about
half-way. Of course it was a much bigger problem to Patsy than it was to me.
After a couple of days of trying to ignore her—sure that the problem would go
away—I knuckled under and scheduled a visit to my doc.
Doc Real-Good-Hands down played the importance of the
problem—not a sty, just a blocked tear duct. His advice at the time was to
apply hot compresses multiple times a day and see if the problem resolves
itself. Well, the holidays threw a clinker into that process. Three trips to
the Dallas area, three trips to
Bryan-College Station, one trip to Mississippi
and the grand kids for a week didn’t help the matter much—not to mention the
weather and cleaning pup feet constantly over the last two months—rain finally
came to Austin. I admit that I
coulda done better.
The knot of my eyelid kept getting bigger and bigger. Again
came the ragging from Patsy and still more feet cleaning getting in the way.
I’d finally had enough of it and called this morning to see when I could get an
appointment. To my utter surprise, the lady said “how about ten o’clock?”
I responded: “What day?”
She said: “This morning!”
I said: “Fine. I’ll see you at ten.”
I was on time, even a little early. They weren’t. After a
short wait (the first of seven) I was ushered back for the prelim of taking
evidence. Then to another waiting area, probably the longest wait of all.
Finally, the original note taker puts me in another room to (again) wait the
doc.
Doc Real-Good-Hands comes in and looks at the eye and says:
“Didn’t get better? Pretty big knot now. Let’s fix it!” Follow me over to a
room where we will do the work. I hadn’t expected this to happen today—it
almost never does. He showed me to another room and said wait here and we’ll be
right back with what we need to get this fixed.
A nurse came back in a matter of minutes with the
paperwork—releasing the medical profession of all liability because I signed
away the authorization for them to gouge out my eye. Again I wait.
Both Doc and the nurse blast back in through the door
throwing on all the lights and a few more strong light sources hidden away in
unsuspecting corners of the room. While Nurse fiddles with the instruments, Doc
lays me back in the exam chair in most likely the worst comfortable of all
positions. I complain a bit and he adjusts the head rest—this restores blood to
my lower extremities but doesn’t feel much better.
Doc states: “The worst of the procedure is the numbing
needle. It’s all downhill from there. First I have to apply this clamp that
will hold your eyelid inside out and back out of the way.”
“Go get it doc; I’m ready!” False bravado always sounds so
good.
“Kook up this way and push out your chin.”
“My chin! I thought you were going to work on my eye.” I
respond.
Doc chuckled once and grabbed my eyelid and attached it to
what felt like my rear end—I know it was at least the back of my neck. You
know, I don’t care too much for needles around my eyes, but in this position
with a million candle power light shining in my eye, my eyelid hooked behind my
ear and the doc’s death grip on my head I couldn’t do anything but observe the
procedure.
First Doc pores a numbing solution into my eye socket and
then pokes me three or four times with the numbing needle—the first prick
having a small sting to it, but the rest felt like just a touch; quick stuff!
Then comes the Bowie Knife to make the incision which was
quickly followed by what appeared to be a tiny small hook apparatus that he
gouged out the oil build up. Over and over this part of the procedure continued—a Que-tip in one hand and a new wire hook in the other after each new gouge.
“There’s a lot here to get.” Doc says.
Several minutes past and Doc is still digging and retrieving
new tools. Nurse seems worried if she brought enough and asks if he might need
more. Doc responds: “No, I think I can get it all with what we have. This is
the biggest knot of the year though.”
I said: “Doc, it’s only the 11th of January!”
“OK, OK! But still in the top ten of last year.” Still more
digging.
Finally comes the “there, we’ve got it all. I’m just going
to put some ointment on it and cover it with a compression patch in case it
bleeds a bit and we’ll give you a rest for about ten minutes.” Well, finally
the last of the waits is upon me. They both depart and turn of some of the
flood lights on their way out. There I sit, finally upright again.
I wasn’t paying much attention and assume ten minutes past.
Doc came back in and removed the patch, dabbed the eye a bit and said I might
have a little pink colored tears until the healing finishes.
I was ushered out and able to continue my day.
While the doc was outta the room the last time, I broke
hospital rules by taking out my phone and snapping a pix of my eye area—I hope
I didn’t offend somebody’s pacemaker or stop an assisted breathing apparatus
while I was in action.
When I got to my vehicle I text’d the pix to Patsy and ask
her if she would like me to stop by for lunch. The result is exactly what one
might expect: “Can you drive like that?” I had brought my glasses and was
set—of course Patsy didn’t know that! I’ll probably dream tonight ‘bout that
needle and wire hooks around my eye.
The pix did it's intended job!
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