March 12, 2014, the day of my second IOL surgery. The first had been extremely successful and my doctors were eager to finish the second. I knew basically what to expect this time, plus I had my boyfriend with me this time to take care of me and handle the abuse I was going to give him.
Everything was fairly similar to the week before, a whirlwind of nurses, IV's, pressure cuffs, drops, hair nets, and gowns. I had an incredible and sarcastic nurse this time that made everything easier. I thank the Lord for her, because she truly listened to me and my concerns from the recent surgery. She was going to make sure she told someone about my nausea and discomfort post-op.
Went into the operating room like normal. The bee hive was buzzing as normal, masked faces going this way and that. They hook me up to my IV start the process of prepping me. Eye flooded, numb, taped open; one deep breath and here we go.
The surgery started off just like the first. Swirling, fuzzy, bright colors dancing with shadows. I could hear them talking around me, two men I trusted more than anyone else sitting just above my head. Things were going along well when I started feeling pressure. I told them, they tried to numb me some more, but the pressure continued. Because of the ongoing pain I spoke up to the doctors. They told me that they were trying to sutcher the lens to my cornea, but it was stuck. oh ya that is what you want to hear. The string being used to stitch in the lens was kinking and he was haveing to tug on it to try to get it to free itself. I could feel each tug, not a deep horendous pain, but a sharp pressure. Once they had the lens stitched in, there was too much distortion to my iris (like a cat's eye). Unsatisfied with this result, they had to resutcher the lens, more and more tugging and forcing the lens to do what they want. There was nothing they could do for my discomfort, and all I could do was whimper and pray it ended soon.
Finally, it was done. They were pulling tape, oxygen, and IVs off of me as they wheeled me out of the operating room. My wonderful nurse met me at the door wanting to take care of me, even though it wasn't her job to watch over me post-op. They had given me additional medication to help with the nausea, and it was a God send. I surprisingly felt completely fine after this procedure. I was given plenty of time, cups of ginger ale, and even crackers to help make sure I wouldn't get sick. Mom and Scott were brought in to see me and then we were released to go home. My amazing doctor, unbeknownst to me, went in to the waiting room to talk to mom and Scott and gave them a prescription for pain killers. He told them it was a much harder surgery this time and I didn't need to be a martyr. The pills did come in handy, because even though I felt human this time, I felt the pain too. I felt like I had one heck of a black eye and eye infection all at the same time. My check ups had the same positive results as the first eye. I could see at 20/30 and could actually read some as well. I had made it to the other side of this life long track, but I wasn't quite ready to celebrate.
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