The "Eyes" Have It

It was Monday and I was in the office talking to my coworker, Tami, when suddenly a floater the size of the Goodyear Blimp appeared in front of my left eye. It hovered, shifted to the left, then floated back to the center again.

"Wow," I told her. "You should see the floater that just blotted out your face. It looks like a big fat semi-colon." Tami nodded and said she gets floaters too, and we agreed that they're oh so annoying, like gnats swarming around your face.  And then we continued our conversation about whatever it was we were talking about.

That night, more floaters appeared around the blimp, which remained fixed in my line of vision. Not gnat-sized floaters, but spider-sized. Still, I wasn't concerned. I've had them before and my ophthalmologist reassured me that they're a very common eye ailment and nothing of concern. "But if you see flashing lights, call me immediately," he said. "Because that means the retina is detaching. Flashing lights are something to worry about." 

And Tuesday morning I saw the flashing lights.  

I called. Left a message. Left another message. And another. By the time the ophthalmology department returned my call five hours later, the vision in my left eye was like looking at a blimp through a screen door. 

"The doctor can see you on November 13th," the scheduler said, not understanding the gravity of the situation. "No," I told her. "You need to get a message to him right now. Tell him I'm seeing flashing lights. I'll hold."

That did the trick. 

Ninety minutes later, I was sitting in his chair, having my left eyeball manipulated, poked, and prodded like he was kneading bread dough. I apologized for being paranoid, but said I remembered what he told me about the flashing lights and he nodded. 

"90% of the people who come in complaining about floaters have nothing to worry about," he said. "Unfortunately, you're the 10% that do. You have a torn retina." Seriously? I can't get one matching number in the lottery but hoo boy, something bad comes along and winner winner chicken dinner. 

And so, emergency laser surgery was scheduled for the next morning, which was Halloween. When I saw the retina specialist, I gulped. Was he in costume as a middle school student? This was the guy who was about to Darth Vader my eyeball with a blinding laser.  Oh, make that two eyeballs. Because when he checked my "good" eye as common practice, he found my right retina was also torn. 

"No symptoms, which is odd," he said. "But it's also at risk for a retinal detachment."

Alrighty then. Laser away, Darth.

Various websites indicate that laser surgery is painless and takes just 15 minutes, but Darth found a second tear in my left eye. This one was hard to reach and sitting on a nerve, which hurt like a #!@#! every time he stabbed it with the throbbing green light. One hour and three repaired tears later, I staggered out of the clinic, blinded by the light, in the most literal sense, and clutching the arm of Oliver, my nephew-in-law and driver.

So it's been three days and my left eye still has the Goodyear Blimp fixed in my line of vision. Plus, my peripheral vision is blurry, like looking underwater. When I told Darth, he said my retina is bleeding from the surgery (how's that for a good excuse to call in sick? "Sorry boss, can't come in today, I've got bleeding retinas!") and should dissipate in a few days. The blimp though, may be permanent. He'll know more when I see him again in three weeks. In the meantime, I'm getting by with my "good" eye.  

And buying a lottery ticket. Because really, if someone's going to beat the odds, I might just be that gal.