As I’m typing this, I’m trying to keep my hood over my left eye as much as possible so I can see relatively clearly. I’m five days out from an eye surgery called a vitrectomy. Almost two years to the day after my first disruptive vessel bleed caused by diabetic retinopathy, this surgery was another step in the process of treating this complication from living with Type 1 Diabetes for over 30 years.
If you’ve read this blog on and off, (particularly back before I started teaching and my writing time took a significant nose dive!) you’ll know that I went through a personal process of emotional growth back in 2013. Learning to trust God, let go of control, feel my feelings, and be present in the moment were the lessons I needed to learn and life was infinitely more fulfilling, joyful, and connective afterwards. One of the takeaways I’ve relearned again and again is that I really don’t know what the future holds. I used to plan excessively because it helped me to feel in control, especially of my feelings of anxiety. Learning to let go of that illusion of control, trusting God to lead my steps and provide his gifts has given me a deep sense of freedom and delight.
After a busy school year, the last several weeks have given me time to slow down. I’ve been acutely aware that I don’t know what the next experience will be like, both in surprisingly good and frustrating ways.
Our adventure to the Higher Things Conference in Wisconsin was so rewarding and fun! Everything about this experience was new for me and the youth from our church. We literally didn’t know where or what we would eat on campus for the first few meals (flying from California, we arrived 24 hours before the first conference meal was served!). Fortunately, a semipro baseball team, the Lakeshore Chinooks, were playing a game right by our dorms, just after we arrived. We made the spontaneous decision to eat at the game and enjoyed a delightful Midwest summer night at the ballpark!
From the divine services to the breakaway sessions, so many wonderful, gospel messages were shared during the retreat. The girls bonded and stayed up way too late each night talking, the boys got a chance to exercise their independence and navigate the campus on their own, and I took many long walks along Lake Michigan soaking in the stillness and beauty of God’s creation. I also marveled at how quickly people adapt to their new surroundings. From the dorm accommodations to the labyrinth like campus tunnels, to the rhythm of meals and activities; what felt unfamiliar became routine and comfortable in just a few short days. My feelings ebbed and flowed all throughout the trip to Wisconsin and trusting God made it possible for me to accept and appreciate the transformation.
My eye surgery was scheduled for exactly one week after we returned from Higher Things. Going into the procedure, I was mostly praying for peace and calm nerves. I have a history of fainting when getting an IV placed, so that was foremost in my mind. My doctor and I had agreed on general anesthesia (which I’ve had before), so I felt okay about that part. Dennis drove me to the Shiley Eye Center at UCSD and waited there with me before the surgery. I had a wonderful prep nurse named Ana who gently asked “So, you don’t have any trouble with needles, right?” as she prepared the IV. I’m sure she assumed that after 30+ years of diabetes, I was immune to needles. “Actually, I’ve had a phobia of needles for years and have a history of fainting,” I replied.
She proceeded to prep my right hand for the IV. This process always takes awhile because I have extremely small, rolling, and seemingly invisible veins. It took her awhile to identify a vein, but she didn’t make a big deal of it and I just chatted with Dennis about random memories from childbirth (hospitals always bring those memories flooding back!). She got the IV on the first stick while I breathed deeply and DID NOT faint! First hurdle passed!
Then, the anesthesiologist came in to talk with me. I totally didn’t catch his name. He explained that they weren’t going to put me totally under (read: not getting general anesthesia) due to the nature of the surgery, noting that if they could sedate me without having to put me on a ventilator, that was obviously preferable. He then explained that they’d inject a “block” by my eye and that’s “the only place you’ll feel pain…” At which point tears started to flow. “Wait, I thought I was having general anesthesia,” I said quietly. He then clarified, “Oh, you’re going to experience exactly the same thing as if you were fully under.” Okay. At this point, I tried to calm down and pray. I really had no choice but to trust God and the doctors. It’s not so much the pain I feared but being conscious of what was happening and then fainting. As it turns out, I was completely unconscious about one minute after he injected the sedation medication into my IV! They wheeled me out the double doors to the OR and that’s the last thing I remembered before they woke me up in recovery.
It’s been an enlightening process of acceptance dealing with my vision post-op. I don’t know what I was expecting but it’s definitely more challenging than I anticipated. When they said my vision would be blurry for a week or two, I didn’t realize that meant that I wouldn’t be able to see at all out of my left eye. True, with one functioning eye, my overall vision is blurry, but it’s quite distracting and hard to focus with that degree of blurriness. Basically, there’s an air bubble in my left eye where the vitreous was removed, which I can see slowly moving down in my vision. I can’t see anything else though. One benefit of dealing with persistent, intermittent floaters in my left eye for the past two years, is that I learned that covering that eye completely eliminates the issue. So, after they removed the patch at the post-op appointment the day after surgery, and I realized how disabling my vision was, I had to figured out a way to cope. Fortunately I was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. The solution really took care of itself! So, for the past few days, I’ve been able to watch a lot of Wimbledon matches, read for both school and pleasure, and watch Christmas Hallmark movies for our annual “Christmas in July” tradition, all my covering my left eye with a hood.
I’ve certainly had my moments of frustration over the past week. I already miss running and I don’t know how long it’ll be until I’m cleared to resume running or my usual level of activity. But, acceptance that I don’t know the future is helping me stay in the moment. I didn’t know the joy that awaited us in Wisconsin. I didn’t know precisely the challenges that surgery and the post-op experience would bring. I don’t know how quickly my vision will improve. But, I’m okay. My family is taking good care of me and I’m extremely grateful for a family culture that allows for a lot of sitting around, reading, talking, being creative, watching sports, and just vegging.
Thank you for your support on this journey…
