I've had my glaucoma surgery!

Hi there

21 June

Right up until the last minute, the hospital staff were examining me for the dreaded lurgy.  All through the previous night I'd put myself through an intensely long session of self hypnosis/meditation/positive thinking/call it what you will.  I kept telling myself that from the moment I walked into that hospital I wouldn't have a stuffy runny nose.  And when the time came,  I didn't! 

My blood pressure, heart, pulse were all good.  I padded into the operating room in my Wellington Hospital robe, pj' s, chiffon booties, sideless shirt and shower cap. But I felt so cheated because in movies the patients are always wheeled in on comfortable beds accompanied by gorgeous George Clooney-looking doctors whispering sweet nothings in their ear and a full orchestra somewhere on the sidelines playing the theme from Titanic.   Well, that's how it should have been, anyway.

Everything worked out ok.  But my eye felt like there was a load of grit in it for hours afterwards.  The after-care is going to be intensive.  I will be taking thirteen (count 'em, thirteen!) eye drops a day for goodness knows how many weeks, and there will be quite a few visits to the hospital.

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Shortest Day swim today, and I couldn't go. My swimming pal J went, and I was so jealous.

My forthcoming eye surgery

Hi there

Wow, what a past few days.  I have caught yet another head cold.  And the words 'head cold' never seem dramatic enough, do they?  It's not 'the flu', which are the words at the very top of the spectrum, nor is it 'the common cold'' (heavens to Betsy, we  snobs don't want anything that's 'common'!).

Anyway, I went to the hospital yesterday for a second pre-assessment before my glaucoma operation next month.  I had previously rung up and said I had a cold and did they still want me?  "Yes," I was informed by the admissions receptionist

But when I arrived, I was given biblical leper status and immediately handed a medical mask to wear because I might pass my cold on to other waiting patients.

I was also informed I couldn't have my 19 June operation because of my cold symptoms that would take a long time to peter out.

Given all the hacking coughs, and the hundreds of daily tissues that I've blown into, and the not being able to eat (yay, one good point, I've lost weight!), and not being able to talk because of my sore throat (my friends are probably very happy), I guess postponing my operation by a week or two - subject to a  confirmation oath by my GP attesting to my state of health, and probably to be signed off in my blood - was an inevitability.

Update - several days later:

Ooh, pistols to be drawn at dawn?   My GP disagrees with the hospital.  He says my cold will work itself away well before the scheduled operation date.  So is the op on? Or op off?  Stand breathlessly by for further breaking news ...

Wellington Hospital Christmas Grotto

Hi there

On Friday, I got back from a week in Nelson which is at the top of the South Island, and more about that holiday in a later blog.

On Saturday morning I had an appointment with the eye unit at Wellington Hospital.  I had to have another  eye laser-y something or other done to reduce the pressure in both eyes.

Anyway, while I was at Wellington Hospital, I was thrilled to see that on the ground floor, just as one enters the building, there's a Santa's Grotto.  Santa will be there all next week between noon and 1pm.  For sick kids and walk-ins.  What a wonderful thing!

Not a brilliant photo, but there were too many lights on to get a really good photo.

cataract surgery - my aftermath

Hi there

Well, it's been over a week since my surgery... and I hate it! There's no pain or anything like that, it's just the inconvenience of it all,   Eight eye drops a day, spaced out at different times is truly annoying.

And I can't swim because contrary to what we all think about sea-swimming, the sea is absolutely bacteria-ridden.

And this is about the hottest summer New Zealand has had in, perhaps, a hundred years.  I sit in the back garden most days.  Then I'm so hot that I crave a shower.  Half a dozen times a day.

And this leads to the next problem:  showering.  I can't get shampoo or soap or grit or any foreign bacteria-ridden thing in my eye.  I tried all sorts of things not to get my eye bumped, scratched, soaped or wet when in the shower. After lots of experimentation (mainly out of the shower), I hit on the perfect showering solution for when I want to cold shower many times in one day.  And here it is:

A bucket on my head!!!

I still have trouble washing my hair.  And after more experimentation, I now have one hand holding a big fluffy bunched up towel over my bad eye,  and the other hand (trying to) wash my hair.

Sigh.......

My cataract surgery

Hi there

I happily bounced into Wellington Hospital, a wee bit scared but not overly worried.  I was only having a local anaesthetic, right?  I'd be alert, awake.  Probably sitting in a comfy chair during the procedure.

Huh?  What?  I stared at a nurse in horror.   I have to get undressed?  I have to take off everything, except my knickers?  And put on a smock, some matching trousers, booties, a hat?  And a dressing gown!   I was going into the operating theatre?

A type of plastic sheeting was placed over my face.  The surgeon cut an eye-hole in it.  A light shone under the plastic and I was told to stare solidly at it.  I was not to move.

I wanted desperately to move.  I wanted to roll my eyes, to twitch and turn, play the ukelele, ballroom dance.  I craved to leap off the bed and run out of that room.  I visualised all manner of horrific things going on with my eye.  I did hear scraping and probing noises.  Or did I imagine that?;  were the half a dozen eye drops and the anaesthetic rub that I'd had earlier giving me hallucinations?  I gripped the nurse's hand extremely tightly throughout the whole procedure. She had to peel my other hand off the bed railing.

The surgeon and nurses were so kind, except when they sent me home wearing a very unflattering see-through ventilated plastic eye-shade stuck to my face with long strands of white Sellotape, and I had to stop off at the chemist and have a prescription filled.  I was sooooooo embarrassed.

 

 Above:  one of the rooms I waited in.  The nurse left me so as I could change outfits and read the Patients' Rights' guide.  When she returned, she was surprised to see me actually reading the guide.

My Cataracts

Hi there

A friend of mine's doctor said to her,  "I only have to look at your age to know you've got cataracts..."

Over ten years ago, I was told I had little bitty (not the correct medical term) cataracts in the corner  of each eye.  I worried at the time but, after a few years, when they didn't grow,  I never gave my cataract problem much of a further thought.  The diagnosis of glaucoma was a more important worry.

Imagine my surprise when on my return from America I was diagnosed with a cataract in one eye to justify a surgical procedure. Tomorrow I am to have a Wellington Hospital pre-assessment.  The surgical procedure should be soon.

And, I have heard various tales, rumours, myths about the length of time it will be before I can swim again.  Somewhere between one and two months seems to be the consensus.

Darn-it.

°°°°°°

(7 swims so far this month.)

YAG PI LASER

Hi there

No, the title of this writing isn't in Klingon.  It's the piece of equipment that was used on my eyes at the Wellington Hospital Eye Clinic to release the pressure from behind my eyes.

The laser makes tiny holes in the iris.  And a laser?  Goodness, talk about "Buck Rogers in the 21st Century", eh? Today's inventions rival many of those old sf shows.  And again ... a  laser?  Wow!

I admit I was scared.  I mean, lasers can cut through steel, and walls, and concrete.  The operator only had to sneeze and I'd be a goner.

"I've got an eye infection," I had admitted earlier to the doctor operating the laser.  My eyes were red inside, and outside.  The lids were an eyelash away from glueing together.

But after due discussion with a nurse or two (who seemed to be totally against me being lasered), the doctor made the decision to go ahead.  I had to sign a consent form that would absolve him, the nurses,  the hospital, the laser, Uncle Tom Cobley and all, from any responsibility.

And now I have to wait until the 29th of  September to see if the laser work was successful -

"If not," the doctor informed me, "surgery is the next step."

Such a joy germ...

Fire in the eastern suburbs

Hi there

There was a big fire down the road in the early hours of this morning (Fri) NZ time), one of the biggest fires in many years in Wellington.  It was Kiwi Storage which is at the foot of the airport runway and right next door to where a branch of Weta Workshop also had a fire a couple of years ago.  On the other side of the storage facility is .... Kilbirnie Fire Station.  Seventy-something fire-fighters fought the blaze that lasted for 6 hours,.  It started at 1.30 a.m. and when J and I were swimming way across the bay, we could still see the smoke at 3 pm in the afternoon.

There was quite a bit of stuff in the Storage sheds, put there by Weta folk.  Some collectible vintage cars and it's thought that two Oscar awards for "Lord of the Rings" also went up in the fire.   As well,  some stuff that had once belonged to Madonna.  I have a feeling the awards might have been Alex Funke's from the Weta Miniatures Department.

I took a photo from the bus window as I went past this morning, but the pic didnt turn out.  Curse you, bus driver for going so fast!  That's certainly a change.  Usually the buses go at a snail's pace.

Here's a pic from the New Zealand Herald website.






I was on my way in the bus to the hospital.  I was surprised to discover that there is a grand piano in the hospital foyer and volunteers play lovely soothing music.

Hospital fashion

Hi there
Yesterday, I visited a friend in hospital.  The guy at reception told me I'd have to put on an apron, gloves, and a mask before I entered my friend's room.

I shook the plastic apron out from its box. Wellington Hospital didn't obviously have a stylist.   "But I'm so used to Dior."   I pouted.  "And Versace."

The guy said he would be my own personal stylist.  He helped me slip on the gloves, do up the apron and adjust the mask.

Everything was white.   Oh, well, I would just have to carry the colour off.  After all, we were in summer, and they say white is always right.

My ill friend is a true fashionista.  I was wearing the one designer dress I possess, a  newly-bought Trelise Cooper that I'd  found at a charity shop.  I knew my friend would love to see it.

But obviously, because of the hospital's dress rules, my friend could hardly make out what I was wearing.

So, I did a naughty thing.  I strip-teased out of the Wellington Hospital white ensemble.  And paraded up and down the private room in my Trelise Cooper outfit, keeping well away from my friend so as I wouldn't breathe any bad germs upon her.  As required, my friend oohed and aahed happily.

My mask and apron were back on and the gloves draped daintily up my wrists when I re-emerged  to reception.

"Your friend didn't mind the hospital outfit?" the guy asked me.  There was a twinkle in his eyes.  "Even though it wasn't the latest up-to-the-minute style?"

"Oh, my friend didn't mind one bit," I said, merrily.  I peeled off Wellington Hospital's pretence at fashion and threw it all in the nearest bin.

Truly, the hopsital must obtain the services of a new designer.  Someone who's not afraid of colour.  Or sequins.\

xxx 

When J and I arrived at the beach today, it was very low tide.  And, this time, we managed to walk all the way out to the buoy, without being submerged or having to do any swimming.  We  lifted up the buoy triumphantly and waved it above the water.   One more challenge down.