The New Neo

[Part I can be found here.
Part II can be found here.
Part III can be found here.
Part IV can be found here.
Part V can be found here.]

At the end of Part V, I’d had my surgery and was trying to relax and heal. I continued to be astounded and entranced by the clarity of my distance vision after all those blurry years. All I had to do to refresh my memory, at least somewhat, was to close my left eye and look at the world with my right. My right eye had been my good eye previously, so it wasn’t really a trip back in time, but my vision with that eye was bad enough in comparison to my new left eye that it practically made me gasp.

Reading was another story, but I had expected that to degrade because I’d been given a monofocal distance lens. Before the surgery, I was able to read without glasses with my left eye (close-up vision is sometimes improved with a cataract), although with some difficulty and with the print being fainter than it really was, looking gray rather than black. My right eye wasn’t so good at the task as my left had been, although with some struggle I still could do it. But now, to my great surprise even though I’d been told it would happen, reading glasses actually corrected my left eye’s close vision so that print was not only sharp but dark black. This had not been possible before the cataract was removed.

Our next plan (I was with my ex-husband) was to drive along the west coast and visit various relatives along the way. About ten days after the surgery we made the first stop, which was in a fairly rural part of California. The first day of our arrival we all went for a walk in the countryside near dusk. It was lovely there, and even more lovely because I was now able to see the surrounding hills in sharp focus.

Suddenly I saw a flash in the left of my vision. What was that? Actually, I knew almost immediately what it was, because in 2016 something similar had happened in my right eye. I assumed I was either having a retinal detachment, a retinal tear, or a posterior vitreous detachment. It had been the latter, less serious occurrence that had given me the symptoms in my right eye years ago, so I was quite familiar with that. I also knew from my readings, as well as the release I’d signed before the surgery, that all of these things were possible complications from cataract surgery and are not even extremely rare.

Frightened, I excused myself and went back into the house. And then I realized that I’d also had a sudden increase in floaters, which is a possible sign of all the aforementioned occurrences: detachment, tear, or PVD. I also know that floaters can increase for other reasons after cataract surgery, or can become more visible because of the increased visual acuity that results. In fact, with all the eye doctors I’d seen prior to surgery I’d discussed the post-surgery possibility of seeing the floaters I already had better, and they all agreed that was very possible and happened quite often.

But right after the surgery I’d been relieved to note that my floaters weren’t more visible or annoying, although the light in my eye from my iridotomy was. But now, ten days later, I had new floaters, and one of them was largish, quite dark, and floated across my main line of vision. I knew from past experience that people sometimes had floaters disappear or at least get more tolerable as the brain gets used to them, but I found it depressing to realize that my new and amazingly clear vision was now troubled by this large floater as well as a sprinkling of small blackish dots that had appeared at the same time.

And I was frightened. Was this a retinal tear or retinal detachment rather than a PVD? Would I require more surgery? I was in a strange place, too, hundreds of miles from LA and the doctor. Fortunately, he has a policy of responding quickly to emails or texts or phone calls, and so I called him and left a message and he called back promptly and reassured me that according to my symptoms (no curtain across my vision) it probably wasn’t the more serious possibility of a retinal detachment although I had to go the next day to see an eye doctor. He knew a good one in the city nearby, and told me to call in the morning and tell them I was a patient of his.

He added that he wasn’t particularly surprised that I was having more floaters and a possible PVD, because he’d had to do so much extra work on my eye that it could easily have stirred things up. This was in line with everything I’d been told prior to the surgery, including what I’d heard from previous doctors, so it made sense to me. But I was still frightened.

I spent the next morning at the office of a very nice ophthalmologist who said it was probably a PVD and he saw no evidence of a retinal problem. That was reassuring, but now I had to deal with the floaters. Fortunately the flashes had subsided – with my right eye they’d lasted about a month, so I saw this as a good sign. But now I struggled against noticing and studying the floaters, and tried to start ignoring them.

It wasn’t easy. It still isn’t easy, although it’s gotten somewhat easier over time. It helps that the little black dots are now a much paler gray. I don’t know why that happened, but it’s an improvement and any improvement is a good thing.

My distance sight continues to be good, for which I’m extremely grateful. I hesitate to say it because I still find it so astounding and it somehow feels tenuous. I think when a person has had diminished vision for many years, and it’s suddenly restored, it’s hard to trust it will continue because the whole thing feels like some sort of miracle.

The PVD (or whatever it was) and the resultant floaters were reminders, and continue to be reminders, of the fact that we never know what’s in store for us. All we can do is our best, go to the best people for help, and hope for the best.

This may seem like the last post in the series. But I plan a Part VII to explore further reflections on the whole thing, and lingering questions that I have. So, to be continued…