The Whinger Has Returned!

Right. So no-one told me this whole lasering of the eyeballs thing would leave me waking up at 5am in the bloody morning craving junk food. Now, who do I have to kill? [squints in your general direction.]

(The somewhat sane part of my brain is trying to tell me that the fact that I'm also beginning a lovely phase of the lunar cycle known as "Crazy Woman Time" is not helping my predicament, but that part my of brain clearly doesn't know what it's talking about and needs to shut up because I. Am. In. Charge.)

But I am back! And I can see . . . sort of. And am still wearing my sexy sunglasses. In fact, I've been wearing the sexy sunglasses so much that I actually have blisters forming behind both my ears, so really? Not so sexy. My dad was making buzzing fly noises whenever he walked into the room a couple of days ago, but I think he fears for his safety now that I am weaned off the happy pills.

Ha! Happy pills my arse! Although I do remember having a giggle about lots of random things, I also remember puking twice into the bathroom sink because my stomach? It does not like the happy pills so much. And I definitely do not like the puking. Blech.

Anywho, since I'll be most likely swooning off into sleep again like the drama princess that I am, I wanted to get my surgery story up here before the snoring begins. (Yes. Princesses snore. Didn't you know?)

Surgery Day

I remember feeling all brave that morning, I ate my breakfast and gave my animals a random squish and then pulled my traditional 'We're going to be late, it's all your fault, hurry, hurry, wah!' spiel as we rushed out the door. I then proceeded to tell my very-profiecient driver (also known as 'Dad') the way to get to Manly, because please. I have been there, done that. (Let's collectively ignore the fact that I got completely and utterly lost the last time, alright? Grand.) About fifteen minutes before we arrived at the surgery, I got some calming text messages from friends, to which I responded something along the lines of 'I'm crapping my pants!' My stomach then literally turned to liquid, leaving me groaning in the backseat of the car in a mild state of panic.

We arrived at the surgery, I paid my hefty fee (sniff) and sat down in the waiting chairs with my parents. I was also not-very-subtly checking out some other patients there, who were already decked out in white scrubs, blue footsy cpvers as well as a very sexy shower cap. About two seconds later, I was called in for my pre-op exam, where I got to don the fashionable gear and shuffle around like an old lady. (I was also extremely proud to announce my weight to the poor lady taking my details . . . what? I've lost weight! Why not be proud? Not that she would have known that, but whatever.) She then proceeded to give me drugs. Oh dear.

I came out of that little room feeling very relaxed (drugs) and found poor Mum in the complete opposite state; turns out the nurse who had been filling her in on all my post-op treatments had flown through them and confused the crap out of her. She was sobbing in her chair, Dad was calming her down and I was gazing aimlessly around the room. (drugs) Although at the time I was swearing the Xanax tablets weren't doing anything, I was probably already off the planet because I don't remember much else. When it was my turn for surgery, I gave dad my handbag and shuffled in to see the doctor. There was a huge viewing panel of glass, so I was waving cheesily to my dad through the glass until the nurse told me to shut up and lie down, crazy woman get comfortable and lie down. Then I got scared.

The surgery really didn't hurt, at all. It was bloody weird, and the eyeball burning smell was terrible, but the absolute worst part? Was them flushing out the eyes for about thirty seconds with freezing cold water. For all the numbing drops they gave me, the cold water burned all the way in. My teeth were chattering, and the nurse told me my lips had gone blue from it. It was horrible! Then it was all over, and the surgeon led me outside and told me to read a car number plate, which I could! Then we waited in a dark room, and shuffled off to the car. I think I was magically teleported home, because I don't remember that car ride at all. (Drugs)

That night was filled with eye drops, sleep and that's pretty much it. And painkillers - Valium and Panadeine Forte. I've never taken so many drugs before in my life, honestly. I did sleep well, though.

The Weekend of Pain

Yeah, I'm exaggerating. It did hurt an awful lot on Saturday, but thanks to a superb staff of healing professionals (also known as Mum and Dad) we got through. I was sick once after having some tablets, which was not pleasant at all, but we just assumed it was because I wasn't eating much and was taking a rather large amount of drugs. I listened to the entire nine hours of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone on Saturday, which I think is a pretty incredible feat. My parents had a party to attend that night, so Jase got to be the babysitter for the evening, lucky man.

I greeted him with a hug, and then a cheery exclamation of 'I think I'm going to be sick!' which left him looking shocked and me being, well, sick. Then I slept lots, while he gave me eye drops and enjoyed a nag free night of watching football. Hee. My parents were late out, so Jase ended up deciding to stay the night. I was half coherent at this stage and gently suggested gruffly informed everyone that Jason was to be sleeping in my bed, with me, thankyouverymuch because I was sick and I wanted him there. Being a good boy, he obliged, and I slept well that night.

Suffice it to say, I didn't touch the Valium anymore after that. I think it was just too strong for me, but by Sunday most of the pain had settled down anyway. I could open my eyes in small amounts, and looked a lot like a zombie. Still do, in fact. I bet you $10 that my puffy and baggy eyes would scare small children. Or even old ladies.

The Check-Up and Onwards, Soldiers!

Being spoiled, I had not one but two handsome men take me to my post-op visit yesterday - Dad and Jason. I had a massive headache on the way over, probably from being in the sun so much. (Bright lights! It burns!) That didn't stop me, however, from being a terrible backseat driver the entire journey to Manly, and I had several hissy fits at Carmen the Garmen (our navigator system thingy) who just didn't know where the fuck she is going. There were no drugs involved this time either. Just plain weirdness.

After putting numbing drops in my eyes, the orthoptist told me that one eye had healed faster than the other. My left eye had its protective contact lens removed, and I'm now to just continue with three drops (4x a day) plus night cream in that eye. As for my right eye, I had one tiny splodge in the middle of the cornea that hadn't healed yet, so she placed another contact lens over it and I get to remove it myself later on today. She also told me I had 20/20 vision after reading the sign, though I'm not sure that I believe her. All good.

I can open my eyes more, though for small periods of time only. I can see better out of the healed eye than the other, but hopefully that should clear up soon. I'm also having trouble focusing on things, especially close up. (Hence me writing this by increasing the text size about a hundred times.) My orthoptist informed me that I should go back to work next week, so that my eyes don't strain themselves too early in the healing process. Yes, yes. That's all well and good. But I can't even watch Buffy! Or read! (A 24 hour recording of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire should fix all boredom, right?)

As for food choices? I had my parents worried that on top of being eyeball lasered, I was also pregnant. I wanted lots and lots of toast. I wanted fake mashed potato wrapped up in devon slices. I wanted lollies. And icecream. Oh, the icecream. (And for the record? Not pregnant. Well and truly NOT pregnant.) Although I should have bought stocks in the Allens chew-mix lolly company for this weekend. Sherbies, Redskins and Milkshakes. They are my saviour, they rescue my tastebuds from the horrible eyedrop taste that drips down my throat once every hour. Yeeeeech. Not enjoying that part.

A huge thankyou to my parents and Jase who have looked after me this whole weekend. Heaven knows I'm not an easy person to look after when I'm sick and incoherent, but they did a wonderful job. No bleeding from the eyeballs, or eyeballs falling out of their sockets or anything like that! High fives to you guys!

Now that I've well and truly worn myself out, I'm going back to bed. The sun is rising, and the daylight hurts. I think I'm turning into a vampire. (I've already got the paleness factor down.)

I'll be stalking you all soon! xo

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