Living To Tell the Tale

I have survived. And feel quite sheepish about the fuss I kicked up.

It wasn’t exactly fun, I will say that. But it wasn’t the horror show I was anticipating.

Things I hated:

• I had to get undressed down to the skin. Honestly. For one eye. I didn’t even have to do that for my shoulder surgery.
• My wrists were bound with gauze and tethered to the operating table, so I wouldn’t touch the sterile field. As if. It was NOT a good feeling.
• I wanted to be sedated to the extent that he could tell me he was sewing my eyelid to my chin and I would offer to help. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. :( (But it was enough to get the job done.)
• Before the surgery, they wrote on my forehead with marker, in large letters, over each eye. “C” for correct and “W” for wrong. I felt as though a sizzling brand had been applied. I know it was done for safety. And that's a good thing. But add this to the fact that I was naked under a hospital gown, had a disposable surgical cap over my hair and had no makeup on, the cringe factor was very high indeed.

Things I liked:

• The staff was super kind, friendly and professional, to a person.
• The surgery center was very nice.
• It was over quickly, in just a little more than an hour.

Dr. M., my eye surgeon, was teaching someone about the procedure while he was doing it (he literally wrote the book). So I learned a lot. Actually, more than I ever wanted to know. :)

I now look like one side of a prize fighter. Not even black and blue. Just black and swollen, with lovely blood red for decorative touches.

But it is done. And my eyelids should be symmetrical now, with the right ones functioning properly. I hope I don’t sound hideously vain. It really was a reconstructive surgery.

I am lucky and grateful.