He Poked a Knife in my Eye

The sun seemed to be rather lazy about rising, but we made it to the Charleston Surgery Center for my 7 a.m. appointment. It was the day of my second cataract surgery and lense implant. I was excited but had a bit of angst as well.  I get anxious when someone is going to cut on me. I believe it is a natural reaction. The waiting room was almost empty, only one other soul there.  The receptionist was entirely too cheerful for  seven in the morning. There were a bunch of forms to be read and signed. I was surprised, since we had filled out several online in order to "speed up" the process. Some of the questions are quite nonsensical. I must indicate that I don't want them to file for benefits with my insurance company, although the form states that my insurance company will not honor such a claim. Bear in mind that I was reading though one relatively good eye.  After finishing these forms, I paid the lady and awaited for my turn to go under the knife. Soon I was ushered into a large room with cubby holes down one side.  The cubbies have a small bed, two chairs and some wall mounted medical equipment. There is a curtain that is used to insure privacy. There were a few women walking around in blue scrub trousers and multicolored smock tops. An attractive blonde lady told me to sit in a chair and said she would check my vitals and ask some questions. Questions? I couldn't believe there was anything else they would need to know about me after all the forms I had filled out. First she asked my name and I answered as she checked my wrist band. Why was I there? To remove a cataract from my right eye, the same side as the wrist band. She said that they always put the wristband on the right wrist.

 "Oh, really," I said, "at the other place they placed the wristband on the side indicating where the surgery would be."

"We don't do it that way here, she advised."

She checked my blood pressure and attached a clothes pin type thing to my index finger to check my pulse.  I wondered if it worked like my cellphone app did by measuring the translucency of the skin.  And then she started with the questions. What diseases and ailments had I had? I told her I had congestive heart failure.

"Has it ever failed?" she asked.

"Nope," I answered, " if it had I probably wouldn't be here."

There were more medical questions. I had to relate my combo surgery I had as a two-year-old, a tonsillectomy and circumcision.  And, of course, I was not pregnant and never had been. She asked my name again. I responded the same.

"Strip to the waist and put on this gown," she ordered.

"You know I'm here for cataract surgery?" I queried. She walked away.

I followed orders and was soon lying on the bed covered with a blanket.  They placed a hairnet on my head which was sort of unnecessary, since my head is hairless. A woman is blue was hovering over me and of course asking me my name. She said that she was the anesthetist and was going to use a topical anesthetic on  my hand, so I would not feel the needle she would implant there to feed me the anesthetic during surgery. She asked my name again and asked if I was allergic to any particular drugs or latex. I don't think I've ever tasted latex. By now my wife had joined us as well as another nurse and the surgeon.  It was getting crowded and I was feeling claustrophobic.

The doctor had me sit on the bedside and look into this machine while he used a Sharpie to make marks around my eye. I was confident he was marking the correct eye. After this I started getting a bit woozy, and they wheeled me into another room, the operating room. The last question asked was "Do you have to use the bathroom?  "They secured me to the bed. There was even a strap over my forehead.  The bright light of the microscope shined in my right eye.  I did not feel the scalpel. I did not see the implant, as it was inserted through a small incision and unfurled inside my eye. The operation was painless. They rolled me out of the operating room, and nobody asked my name. Soon Claudette and I were on our way home.  I was famished and quickly consumed leftover biscuits with homemade syrup.

I can now see better than anytime in my life after he poked a knife in my eye.