As you know, I had eye surgery to correct exotropia in August, and recovery was harder than I thought it would be. Seven weeks later, and I see double almost all the time, and I get pretty tired sooner in the day than it ever seemed I did before. Most of what I want to do involves close-up work (reading, computer work, quilting, cross-stitch, playing piano, updating photo albums), and I have to rest my eyes from all those activities by late afternoon.
On Tuesday, I had my follow-up check-up with Dr. Guyton, and I couldn't wait. Unfortunately, Tuesday here in the Baltimore-Washington D.C. area was quite stormy. In the last seven weeks I hadn't driven for more than 20 minutes at a time, so the one-hour drive to Baltimore wasn't a fun prospect. Add in the rain, 1/4 mile visibility, and hard-to-see lane lines, and the drive was a nightmare. I almost pulled over on the highway and called Stacy to come get me. But I plowed on. When my double vision was at its worst (about 80% of the highway driving time), I either closed one eye or put a hand over an eye. Not the safest way to drive, but it was the only way for me to get where I was going. I got to Stacy's, and she and Dominic drove me the rest of the way to the Wilmer Institute.
Now, I didn't think I'd walk in, Dr. Guyton would do something miraculous, and all the sudden the double-vision would be gone. However, I did hope for good news. I was absolutely afraid he would tell me that I'd have to deal with the double vision for the rest of my life.
In comes the plucky little resident to do perform all the vision tests (my favorite is getting to pick up the wings of the fly - more fun than a barrel of monkeys, really), and I tell him to write in big letters on my chart "NOT HAPPY."
It couldn't hurt to make sure Dr. Guyton was instantly aware of my troubles.
After looking up, down, left, right; peering at letters (the plucky little intern had trouble with "E" and "P" - he had trouble, not I!); picking up bugs' wings; pointing out the ball that stuck out; and more, Dr. Guyton was ready for me. His analysis? I've been working so hard using my eyes up close that my eye muscles have tightened and aren't allowing my eyes to move outwards as they should after this surgery.
Chris's comment? "It doesn't surprise me that your problem is that you're wound too tightly."
(This is my tongue sticking out.)
Dr. Guyton gives me two things to do: wear magnifying reading glasses so that my eyes don't have to work so hard up close and exercise my eyes. The exercise is the same one he gave the astronaut John Glenn (you know, it makes one feel a tiny bit better when one's doctor is the same doctor who works on former astronauts as well as other famous people). I have single vision if I look upwards, so my exercise is to look upwards and fix an object while it's single. Then, I slowly move my chin up and keep the image single for as long as possible.
Dr. Guyton tells me that in three months it should be better.
Or I have to have another surgical procedure.
Out come the tears. Dr. Guyton was a little surprised (I guess he didn't see the "NOT HAPPY" note on my chart). He wanted to know why I was crying. I told him I really didn't want to go through surgery again. He was pretty positive that if I kept up with the exercises, I would see improvement. (John Glenn saw improvement after three weeks of doing exercises and huge improvement after six weeks.)
Fine.
So now I have granny reading glasses that I perch on the end of my nose. It's quite the lovely sight. No pun intended (it's only a pun in the case if we start trying to confuse Dawn with how many of something we see).
Fast forward to Friday, and I'm at the chiropractor's. I tell Dr. Tedesco that I've had neck and shoulder problems with trying to look at things through the upgaze (chin tucked way down). I also tell her about my visit to Dr. Guyton's and his diagnosis of my continuing double vision. Dr. Tedesco does my usual adjustment, and she moves on to my head to do some cranial work there to release tension.
She starts pressing against the bridge of my nose (this is really gentle pressure, mind you, not deep tissue massage), and I immediately burst into tears. Dr. Tedesco says, "I'm sorry! I should have warned you that there can be an emotional release." She asks me what I'm feeling. Sadness? Anger? I tell her that from the very beginning I didn't want this surgery. Both times a doctor suggested surgery found me in near-hysterics and puddles of tears. The recovery has been tough, and my quality of life has deteriorated since the surgery. Not a good thing.
Dr. Tedesco tells me that the body can have memories, and there could be some very real memories and emotions associated with the surgery in my body. The body doesn't know time, so there's no difference between two minutes and two decades. There could be emotions and memories from the surgery, or it could go back even further - maybe the whole reason why I didn't want the surgery in the first place.
Dr. Tedesco asks me to go home, find a quiet space, and allow the emotions to come through. Letting them out and healing from the inside out could be just as important as the exercises and the reading glasses.
So I'm left with knowing that, yes, I did not want to have this surgery. However, I did have it, and I have to move on. I have to let my body heal and my eyes improve. I'm working hard at the exercises (John Glenn told Dr. Guyton that he did them 1,000 times a day. I'm not at that point yet because it tires my eyes out quickly, but I am consistently doing them), and not only am I using the reading glasses, but I've increased the text size on my computer monitor. Whatever I can do to make it easy on my eyes and not make them work so hard.
The last thing I'm left with is to create an affirmation, believe it, and use it every day. Here's a stab:
My eyes are healing. My double vision lessens every day, and I see clearly. It is easy to see, and I engage in all my favorite activities that use my eyes. I am strong, healthy, and happy.
Oh, Dawn, I just read your story today, although, I was aware of your eye surgery. In my book, you're a very brave woman! Having worn corrective lenses since the age of 7, contact lenses since age 16, graduating to monovision contact lenses, and managing retina troubles, I cherish the vision I have, and empathize completely with you. I am sending good, healing thoughts your way!
Posted by: Gloria Luzier | October 23, 2006 at 08:38 PM
Gloria,
Thank you so much for the comment and the good wishes. I oscillate between being practical and being upset at the situation. There's fear, and I then I work against feeling afraid. The whole Law of Attraction thing, you know?
I have faith that it will all turn out for the best, and your thoughts and wishes will help me get there.
Posted by: Dawn Goldberg | October 23, 2006 at 09:50 PM