Eyeball Report

So many people have heard about my eye problems and asked about them that I thought the easiest way to answer them all would be to post this:

I woke up blind in my right eye in early December, 2003. Every doctor and eye specialist I spoke to recommended the same retina specialist, and I was lucky enough to get him.

He spent two days giving me intensive tests. They took more than 300 computer scans and photos of the inside of my eye. He examined the eye for better than an hour with the brightest goddamned light you ever saw (but which I couldn’t see), reading out copious (and incomprehensible) measurements to a pair of his nurses, who took everything down. Then he explained the situation.

First, I have a hereditary weakness in my eyes—and it’s true; my father had 3 eye surgeries, and was on 3 or 4 different eyedrops the last 30 years of his life. Second, my adult-onset diabetes (I’ve had it since 1996) has severely affected the blood supply going to my eyes, which is to say, I have incredibly poor blood circulation to my eyes. Third, the veins had sprung dozens of microscopic leaks. Some of it seeped into the eye, creating all kinds of havoc. There was a lot of scar tissue inside the eye, and eventually all the fluid in the eye had literally torn the retina. It was not the kind of everyday detachment that could be cured by tacking it back with laser surgery. The retina was -torn-, not detached.

He told me that he would have to go into the eye with tiny instruments and repair it, then use lasers to cauterize all the wounds, and even then the eye was in such a bad way that I might never see well again, though he could guarantee me -some- vision. So he performed the surgery, and I had lousy vision. One of the reasons is that the retina had suffered a severe insult (medical term; no one called it nasty names), and was swollen, and one cannot see well with a swollen retina. When eyedrops alone failed to reduce the swelling, he injected some kind of steroid solution directly into the eye with a syringe and needle...and did it about every 4 weeks for a few months. (You’d be amazed what you can put up with when the alternative is blindness.)

I went in just about monthly for him to check me out, and one day, during the standard vision exam his nurse gives me before he shows up, it turned out that the vision in my other eye was not as good as it had been. During his exam, he found that the left eye had the same condition as the right, but was not as far along...so that day I had the same 300 computer scans of my left eye, and the next week he performed laser surgery to patch 43 leaks in the veins. (It was painless. I’d been expecting the kind of thing Goldfinger used on 007; instead it was like looking into a flashbulb going off 4 inches away 43 times.)

During the spring he noted that the surgery had exacerbated a baby cataract I had (I had one in each eye, but the one in the right eye, the eye with the torn retina, was growing at a very fast rate). By August he couldn’t see past it to examine the retina, so in September of 2004, right after Worldcon, I had surgery to remove the cataract. (Not by him; he only does retinas in this age of specialization. It was done by a colleague who only does cataracts.)
Now that he could see into the eye, he saw that a ton of scar tissue had formed, enough so that he had to remove it to give me an eventual chance to see better. (He had predicted this possibility on my very first visit to him.) So on Carol’s birthday (November 2) I went under the knife—well, miniature forceps—again, and he pulled a truly amazing amount of scar tissue from my eye.

Back in August he noticed some more weakness in the left eye and said he wanted to do some more laser surgery to cauterize more potential leaks, but he wanted to do the right eye first. (The first day I met him he gave Carol and me a couple of thick pamphlets describing the condition and the treatment, and I have nothing that isn’t thoroughly described/predicted in the pamphlets. It’s a combination of diabetes and heredity, and I don’t know if I’ll ever get my full vision back in my right eye or keep it in my left, but if it can be done, this is the guy who’ll do it. A recent magazine I saw in his office—for specialists, not patients—listed the top 10 retina men in the country, and he was one of them; I find that comforting.)

On December 1, 2004, I had my 5th eye surgery in 363 days. This was laser surgery on what is laughingly referred to as the “good” eye. Last summer they cauterized 43 submicroscopic leaks in the blood vessels; today they got 38 more.

Non-event. No pain, mild discomfort, no anesthetic.

Prior to the surgery, I underwent the usual vision test. This consists of reading a screen, maybe the size of a 15-inch computer screen, from a dozen feet away in a darkened room. Now, I’ve always been able to read a few rows of letters with the “good” eye; not as many as I should, but if that’s as bad as it ever gets, I’ll settle. Until late December, 2004, I’d never been able to see anything more than the outline of the screen and the fact that it was lit, with the “bad” eye. But in late December I was able to see whether some very thick lines they ran across it were vertical or horizontal. I realize that doesn’t sound like much, but it’s the best I’d done since this whole thing started back in a year earlier.

Latest update: In February, 2005, I went in for my monthly follow-up, and this time I could read some 5-inch and even 4-inch high letters. He tells me I’ll probably never read a book or a computer screen with that eye, but at least I can drive, and I won’t be walking into walls anytime soon. It’s amazing what you’ll settle for when the alternative is so much worse.

Mike.

Late February, 2005 addendum: This time I could actually read some 4-inch-high and 5-inch high letters. Couldn’t see the 3-inchers, but hell, 14 months ago I couldn’t even seen the screen.