I had back-to-back cataract operations on Monday and Tuesday, at the
Herzig Eye Institute clinic on St. Laurent Blvd. I jumped the usual waiting time for surgery by paying a fee to have the surgery done promptly, at this private clinic. We've been debating with our friends whether or not it's hypocritical / immoral to take such a step while claiming to be in favour of universal, free healthcare. The rather poor defence is to say that our taking advantage of private medicare frees up spaces for people who can't afford to avoid the slowly moving hospital queue.
The staff at the clinic say that their clients get better than average treatment there, because of their superior diagnostic and surgical tools, super clean facilities, etc. I chose to pay an extra $1000 or so for each eye to have a preliminary procedure whereby
a laser beam made the first few cuts, thus causing less bruising to the eye and minimizing the risk of imprecise surgery. This would speed up my recovery from the operation.
The clinic is doing very good business just now; because of the Covid-19 scare, people are willing to pay large amounts of money to stay away from hospitals.
Since I opted for a long-sighted lens in both eyes, my distance and middle-distance vision is already excellent; by Wednesday afternoon I already had 20-20 vision in both eyes, according to
Dr. Bhargava who checked the state of my recovery that day, and I could have legally driven home from that appointment, although Chris was the one who drove.
From now on, I'll be needing reading glasses for computer work and for playing the piano, shall have to wait three or four weeks to let my eyes settle before I can get the prescription for those, but have bought a $15 pair from the drugstore in the meantime that are digging into the top of my nose.
I'm lucky to have all this happen at a time when I'm not too busy and not expecting to travel; Chris is also going to have cataract surgery (just in one eye) next month.
I can honestly report that the procedure on both days was painless. I was nervous, of course, and had to put up with a lot of waiting around, but they gave me a mild sedative so I relaxed during the actual operation. Recovery from the sedative took about 10 minutes. The colours and patterns that I saw while the surgeon was working on my eyes were amazing, quite the psychedelic light show!
For the record, this is the email I sent to some friends and relations on the night of the first operation:
I am managing to write this using my untreated eye. I can see some of the views in the distance through the new lens in the other eye, but nothing on the screen yet, apart from blurred outlines. I'm writing this now on the assumption I shan't be able to send a similar email this time tomorrow because by then my vision in both eyes will be blurred.
Today's surgery was really not at all bad. No pain or discomfort worth mentioning. I felt a slight pressure on the eyeball at one point and one of the multiple eye-drops they gave me stung slightly, otherwise an amazingly tolerable experience.
I was right when I anticipated that the worst of it would be not being allowed a cup of coffee or anything to eat beforehand. (I made up for that when I got home.) They had promised me a post-op snack but it came as a take-out. No eating or drinking on the premises because I'd have had to take my mask off. I even had to keep the mask on during the surgery. They taped it to my cheek so that it wouldn't slip.
Anyhow I'm not in the least bit anxious about the repeat procedure (on the other eye) tomorrow.
The experience so far went like this ...
A very late 2nd supper, last night, and a drink just before going to bed.
This morning, I slept in till after Chris had got up; I hadn't slept so well the previous night.
No breakfast.
Chris put eye-drops in and went to the pharmacy to get a top-up bottle because the Moxifloxacin was already nearly all gone! Drank two large mugs full of hot water flavoured with lemon juice and ginger and nothing more. I was allowed no liquids beyond 10 a.m.
Went for a short walk to the Minto Bridges and back.
More eye-drops.
No lunch, no drinking.
Chris drove me to the clinic, said goodbye and drove off at about 12:50.
After having my temperature taken and signing a form saying I did not have any COVID symptoms, I spent another 15 minutes on my feet answering more questions and signing consent forms at the reception desk.
Paid the bill for the first eye.
Waited for about 40 minutes in a comfy chair.
Accompanied into a 2nd waiting room in the surgery area where I waited some more.
A nurse took my blood-pressure and oximeter readings, asking the same questions the receptionist had asked.
More waiting. The nurse kept coming over to put in one more eye-drop (I lost count). She also put a sticker on my forehead above my right eye, so that everyone would know which eye was going to be dealt with.
A robed chap (a second nurse) came across to tell me his name is David and that he'd be accompanying me to the operating table. He then went away again.
It was now about an hour and a half since I arrived at the clinic—still fasting, of course—I was trying not to think about my rumbling stomach.
More eye-drops. The nurse had a good aim.
She then took me to a consultation room and told me the anaesthetist would be along in a minute.
More waiting. I had time to read another chapter of the Maigret book I'd brought along. David poked his head round the door to tell me the anaestheseologist [sic] was coming over soon.
Eventually, circa 2:30, I met the anaestheseologist, very courteous; he was East-Indian-Canadian, like the surgeon. He asked me most of the questions I'd answered before, including what was my name and my date of birth and which eye was going to be done today? He explained what he was going to be doing in the op. theatre and why. Then he went away.
More waiting.
Then Dr. Bhargava (the surgeon) came in. We recognised one another and said hello. I like this chap. He took a last look at my right eye in the diagnostic machine, gave me the chance to ask any last minute questions, explained the procedure again and said he'd see me in the operating theatre shortly.
Not too much more waiting before David reappeared to accompany me to the first operating theatre. This is where the initial laser cut would be done. I needed to lie flat on the bed with my head on the support and have straps tied round my head to keep it still. A soft, rubbery ring was put over the eye to prevent me from blinking; it wasn't at all uncomfortable. The surgeon and some assistants were behind me but I couldn't see them. He seemed to be giving them (students, new colleagues?) a demonstration, with me as the experiment.
A machine was positioned over my right eye and I was told to hold very still while the laser beam was being operated. At one point the doc. said "this will take 25 seconds" which I counted, but nothing new seemed to happen afterwards. I was told to keep watching the red light. I saw a lot of bright flashing lights and interesting shapes and colours. When I saw a brilliant display of green wiggles like lightning strikes, I imagine that's when the laser was functioning.
I was then told that part was over and that I was doing very well. A whole lot more eye-drops followed. I sat up and couldn't see anything out of the treated eye, just a bright blur.
David or the anaestheseologist (not sure) then guided me to a second operating theatre where there was a similar bed. This was where they were going to remove the debris from the cataract-lens and insert the artificial lens in my eye.
Lay down, got strapped in, blood-pressure monitor tied on my arm, intravenous drip inserted in my arm. This was for the "I don't care" drug (ketamine, I think), which was fast-working. I soon felt more relaxed and rather sleepy. I was told to keep my eyes open and keep looking at the lights. For the operation, I once again had a machine to stare into for about 15 minutes (I had no way of measuring the time) while the surgeon worked on me. I decided to concentrate on the pretty colours and patterns I was seeing, quite fascinating really. I decided to think of them as interesting white clouds in a blue sky. Occasionally I saw sliding and intermeshing disc shapes—was that the new lens?—or decorative patterns. Occasionally the surgeon told me I was doing very well. After a while he stopped saying that and started telling me that we were nearly done. Excellent.
To my surprise, as soon as the machine was put away and the blood pressure monitor removed from my arm, I was asked to get up, no recovery time granted! I was allowed to stand still for a moment before moving on. "Are you feeling dizzy?" —no. David took me back to the nearby waiting room where I was given a reclining chair to sit in. The nurse came straight over and said I'd be able to leave in about 10 minutes, so I phoned Chris, asking him to come and pick me up. Apart from the blur and the dazzle I felt pretty normal by then. I could see well enough to recognise my husband, anyhow.
The nurse had let me choose an energy bar and a carton of apple juice, but I had to wait till I was in the car to consume this snack. I was also given a pair of large, all-surround sunglasses to wear for two weeks, every time I go out of doors. I also had a lecture about not getting dust or soap in my eyes.
On the way out I stopped at the reception desk to pick up my receipt for the payment. Then I escaped, and Chris was on the landing by the lifts, already waiting for me.
Chris, very relieved to see me so cheerful, had brought me a delicious croissant filled with smoked salmon and a bar of chocolate, which cheered me up even more.
The second day of surgery was much the same, but faster, since my appointment was three hours earlier this time.
I went for a very short walk in the park on Wednesday evening (Chris walking alongside and being attentive) and noticed an after-effect I had not expected. I felt like Alice-in-Wonderland when she shrank, i.e. the ground I was walking on seemed about half a metre closer than before.; I seem to be shorter than ever! The garden plants looked huge too so I thought I'd better try to find some of that magic mushroom to nibble on the other side. Looking upwards, though, the trees with all their individual leaves looked spectacular.
Chris has been looking after me ever so well, driving me back and forth, doing the shopping, cooking our meals, administering the multiple eye-drops and making sure I behave myself properly 😉. I am not allowed to do any gardening (no soil on hands) or swimming till next month, and have to wear sunglasses with protective sides for at least a week, whenever I go outside.
