Woke to a gentle snow today. Not enough to worry about, but nice. Drove to Tacoma for another post-op visit with my eye surgeon. He said the eye "looks very good." He also took another couple stitches out. 6 down, 18 to go. The best news is he told me I'm at the point where I can finally be fitted for a contact lens in that eye. It's been 4 months that I've essentially been one-eyed; it will be nice to finally have depth perception again.
Following the appointment I went and had lunch with Bill and Ethel Peterson. A lovely lunch and good fellowship. Until Karina called and said "you'd better get home. The snow is getting deep out here." She was right. What was a gentle snowfall in Tacoma was a heavy snowstorm by the time I reached Lakebay. So we're now hunkered in for the night, with a fire in the woodstove and hot water in the kettle. Might be a good night for popcorn and a movie.
Showing posts with label pellucid Marginal Degeneration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pellucid Marginal Degeneration. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Post-op follow-up #4
I had my fourth post-op appointment with Dr. Rotkis today. All continues to heal nicely. I'm down to only one eye-drop (the steroid) and dropping the other (the infection fighter).
In addition, he removed a couple of the stitches today. That was an experience. First, he applied the local anesthetic to the eyeball. Then he poked around with a tiny slicer thing. Then he went in with some little tweezers and began yanking. At least once I actually felt the little string pulling through the cornea. It only stung a bit, but the concept itself was sickening enough.
Ah, well. All is well and good on the road to recovery. Praise the Lord and thanks to good doctors.
In addition, he removed a couple of the stitches today. That was an experience. First, he applied the local anesthetic to the eyeball. Then he poked around with a tiny slicer thing. Then he went in with some little tweezers and began yanking. At least once I actually felt the little string pulling through the cornea. It only stung a bit, but the concept itself was sickening enough.
Ah, well. All is well and good on the road to recovery. Praise the Lord and thanks to good doctors.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
The story
In case you have a lot of extra time on your hands. . .
It begins in about 1998, when I went to see a new eye doctor. This was my first visit since moving from California to Oregon. Somewhere near the end of the visit, the doctor said, "hmm." He mentioned he saw a little astigmatism in my eye. "We'll have to keep watch on that and see if something's happening."
January of 2000, I noticed my vision blurring. So back to the eye doctor in Gresham. They assigned me a new doctor in their clinic, a young woman who split her time between this clinic and teaching at the optometry school in Forest Grove.
"Hmm," she said, and left the room. When she came back, she told me she had bad news. "You've developed karatoconus in your left eye." And thus we entered into a new world of eye treatment.
However. . .
My new pair of hard lenses came, but the left one didn't fit well. Which is somewhat expected. But then the next didn't fit, and neither did the next. "Hmm," she said. She was somewhat frustrated. One day I was in, and she told me there was a contact specialist in the other room. She wanted him to try and fit me.
He was a little, well, arrogant shall we say? A little patronizing toward the eye doctor. He all but said "I'm going to teach this young woman a thing or two." But after about 15 different attempts, it still wouldn't fit. So he made it my fault. "You rub your eyes a lot, don't you? You're blinking wrong. You squint too much."
Having no luck, they sent me to have a corneal scan done in downtown Portland. I went to the office, sat in the chair, and listened to them explain karatoconus. "In fact," the specialist said, "I'll show you on your scan here, just as soon as it prints. See, the coloring here. . .hmm. That's not normal for karatoconus."
So back I went to my doctor, who promised to keep working with me.
Three weeks later, she called my office. She sounded quiter exuberant. "I've got it!" she said. "I talked to my prof at the school, and he knew exactly what it is! It's called Peluccid Marginal Degeneration, and it's really rare, but we can make a lens to fit it."
[from the experts: Pellucid marginal degeneration (PMD) - is a rare condition whereby the lower cornea becomes thinner and the optic surface of the cornea becomes irregular and the vision becomes blurry. The resulting shape of the cornea is similar to a pregnant belly whereby the lower portion of the cornea protruding forward. PMD is often misdiagnosed as Keratoconus, although similar, the resulting cornea shape can be quite different. PMD often has cornea sizes similar to that of a regular eye but a very steep curve in the bottom of the cornea.]
So I got the new lens, it fit well, and life carried on.
Three months later I moved to Turlock. There were no eye doctors in Turlock, or anywhere nearby, who even knew what PMD was. So for six years, I lived with that lens. Which was often a pain in the dry, dusty air of the San Joaqin Valley. But at least I could see.
In 2000 we move to Lakebay. About that time I noticed the lens wasn't fitting well again. So Karina called around and found the local experts in corneal issues. I made an appointment, and went in and saw Ralph Archer.
He looked at my eye through the eye-looking machine. "Hmm," he said. "A problem?" I asked. "That lens fits like %#$#$"
Which is what began this second phase of eye treatment. It took about 8 trips into Seattle and about 6 different lenses to find the one that finally fit. All along he told me he was confident we could treat it with a lens. But he also kept saying I was one of the worst cases he'd ever seen. "If a typical ophthalmologist saw one or two like this in their lifetime, they'd be lucky." PMD is rare enough, but mine seems to extend even more deeply than most. As my mom always said, I'm "special."
So for a year or so, I lived with this massive lens in my left eye. It popped out all the time. It scratched my eye. In the words of the docter, it "beat up" my eye pretty heavily.
When it broke last spring, I made another visit to fit a replacement. "Hmm" said Ralph. "Are you interested in a graft?"
And after talking at length with Ralph, after consulting with Dr. Rotkis, after talking with others who have had corneal transplants, we made the decision to go ahead and have it done.
Tomorrow, around 3:30, the scalpal will cut and I'll enter phase 3 of this journey. Which, hopefully, will end up being the easiest phase. If all goes well, the cornea will be shaped relatively normally. No more PMD, just typical blurred vision, correctable by normal contacts or glasses. No more hunk of plastic in my eye, no more inability to look to the right, no more beating up of the eye.
I'm ready. It's time to get this done. I'm looking forward to not being "special" any more. Normal is just fine with me.
It begins in about 1998, when I went to see a new eye doctor. This was my first visit since moving from California to Oregon. Somewhere near the end of the visit, the doctor said, "hmm." He mentioned he saw a little astigmatism in my eye. "We'll have to keep watch on that and see if something's happening."
January of 2000, I noticed my vision blurring. So back to the eye doctor in Gresham. They assigned me a new doctor in their clinic, a young woman who split her time between this clinic and teaching at the optometry school in Forest Grove.
"Hmm," she said, and left the room. When she came back, she told me she had bad news. "You've developed karatoconus in your left eye." And thus we entered into a new world of eye treatment.
However. . .
My new pair of hard lenses came, but the left one didn't fit well. Which is somewhat expected. But then the next didn't fit, and neither did the next. "Hmm," she said. She was somewhat frustrated. One day I was in, and she told me there was a contact specialist in the other room. She wanted him to try and fit me.
He was a little, well, arrogant shall we say? A little patronizing toward the eye doctor. He all but said "I'm going to teach this young woman a thing or two." But after about 15 different attempts, it still wouldn't fit. So he made it my fault. "You rub your eyes a lot, don't you? You're blinking wrong. You squint too much."
Having no luck, they sent me to have a corneal scan done in downtown Portland. I went to the office, sat in the chair, and listened to them explain karatoconus. "In fact," the specialist said, "I'll show you on your scan here, just as soon as it prints. See, the coloring here. . .hmm. That's not normal for karatoconus."
So back I went to my doctor, who promised to keep working with me.
Three weeks later, she called my office. She sounded quiter exuberant. "I've got it!" she said. "I talked to my prof at the school, and he knew exactly what it is! It's called Peluccid Marginal Degeneration, and it's really rare, but we can make a lens to fit it."
[from the experts: Pellucid marginal degeneration (PMD) - is a rare condition whereby the lower cornea becomes thinner and the optic surface of the cornea becomes irregular and the vision becomes blurry. The resulting shape of the cornea is similar to a pregnant belly whereby the lower portion of the cornea protruding forward. PMD is often misdiagnosed as Keratoconus, although similar, the resulting cornea shape can be quite different. PMD often has cornea sizes similar to that of a regular eye but a very steep curve in the bottom of the cornea.]
So I got the new lens, it fit well, and life carried on.
Three months later I moved to Turlock. There were no eye doctors in Turlock, or anywhere nearby, who even knew what PMD was. So for six years, I lived with that lens. Which was often a pain in the dry, dusty air of the San Joaqin Valley. But at least I could see.
In 2000 we move to Lakebay. About that time I noticed the lens wasn't fitting well again. So Karina called around and found the local experts in corneal issues. I made an appointment, and went in and saw Ralph Archer.
He looked at my eye through the eye-looking machine. "Hmm," he said. "A problem?" I asked. "That lens fits like %#$#$"
Which is what began this second phase of eye treatment. It took about 8 trips into Seattle and about 6 different lenses to find the one that finally fit. All along he told me he was confident we could treat it with a lens. But he also kept saying I was one of the worst cases he'd ever seen. "If a typical ophthalmologist saw one or two like this in their lifetime, they'd be lucky." PMD is rare enough, but mine seems to extend even more deeply than most. As my mom always said, I'm "special."
So for a year or so, I lived with this massive lens in my left eye. It popped out all the time. It scratched my eye. In the words of the docter, it "beat up" my eye pretty heavily.
When it broke last spring, I made another visit to fit a replacement. "Hmm" said Ralph. "Are you interested in a graft?"
And after talking at length with Ralph, after consulting with Dr. Rotkis, after talking with others who have had corneal transplants, we made the decision to go ahead and have it done.
Tomorrow, around 3:30, the scalpal will cut and I'll enter phase 3 of this journey. Which, hopefully, will end up being the easiest phase. If all goes well, the cornea will be shaped relatively normally. No more PMD, just typical blurred vision, correctable by normal contacts or glasses. No more hunk of plastic in my eye, no more inability to look to the right, no more beating up of the eye.
I'm ready. It's time to get this done. I'm looking forward to not being "special" any more. Normal is just fine with me.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
October 27
That's the day I will have my corneal transplant. Around 1:30 in the afternoon. Expect me to look like a pirate that whole week.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Mine eyes have seen the glory
Just a quick personal note, for those of you who consider yourself family or friends. . .
On Monday morning I'm going in to meet with my ophthalmologist in Seattle. If all goes well, we're going to schedule a corneal transplant near the end of October. I'm not looking forward to facing eye surgery, but I am looking forward to being able to see a little more normally.
As it is, the new contact I got a few months ago isn't really working, and if we didn't do surgery, it would probably be another 4-month process with multiple trips to the doctor, multiple attempts with different lenses, all to find one that would work for another year or two. At this point, surgery seems a lot better option.
I'll let you know more, after Monday.
In the meantime, my sister broke her foot yesterday, while at the hospital for a meeting, no less. And my brother totaled his car in an accident last week. So it's an adventurous couple weeks for us all.
On Monday morning I'm going in to meet with my ophthalmologist in Seattle. If all goes well, we're going to schedule a corneal transplant near the end of October. I'm not looking forward to facing eye surgery, but I am looking forward to being able to see a little more normally.
As it is, the new contact I got a few months ago isn't really working, and if we didn't do surgery, it would probably be another 4-month process with multiple trips to the doctor, multiple attempts with different lenses, all to find one that would work for another year or two. At this point, surgery seems a lot better option.
I'll let you know more, after Monday.
In the meantime, my sister broke her foot yesterday, while at the hospital for a meeting, no less. And my brother totaled his car in an accident last week. So it's an adventurous couple weeks for us all.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
On corneas, medical technology, and decisions to make
"Do you want to talk about grafting?"
And so it all changed. We went to Seattle yesterday so I could be fitted with my new contact lens. After messing around with the eye, doing all sorts of tests and measurements, after getting the lens in and fitting as best possible, Dr. Ralph Archer asked the above question.
Up to this point, the game has been "Find the lens that works best." Apparently, we've reached the end of that road, unless I feel like living with a huge piece of plastic in my eye for the next decade.
In came Dr. Rotkiss, the head corneal surgeon, for a long talk about the possibility of a transplant. About the only good thing he could say about the current situation was "It's a testimony to your fortitude or stubbornness that you've lived with this lens so long."
So, the question we're pondering today is "Do I go ahead and have the corneal transplant?" So far, the doctor's recommendation is "yes." And I think we're moving in that direction as well, although I want to spend some time praying about it first. Somehow I thought this day was a lot further off, out in that nebulous "future" that we never actually believe is going to show up.
And so it all changed. We went to Seattle yesterday so I could be fitted with my new contact lens. After messing around with the eye, doing all sorts of tests and measurements, after getting the lens in and fitting as best possible, Dr. Ralph Archer asked the above question.
Up to this point, the game has been "Find the lens that works best." Apparently, we've reached the end of that road, unless I feel like living with a huge piece of plastic in my eye for the next decade.
In came Dr. Rotkiss, the head corneal surgeon, for a long talk about the possibility of a transplant. About the only good thing he could say about the current situation was "It's a testimony to your fortitude or stubbornness that you've lived with this lens so long."
So, the question we're pondering today is "Do I go ahead and have the corneal transplant?" So far, the doctor's recommendation is "yes." And I think we're moving in that direction as well, although I want to spend some time praying about it first. Somehow I thought this day was a lot further off, out in that nebulous "future" that we never actually believe is going to show up.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
I'm not winking at you
If you are long-time friend or regular reader of dan's hole in the wall, you know that I have a rare eye condition, one that requires a highly specialized contact lens that is about the size of a hubcap. Monday, that contact popped out while I was cleaning up following some yard work. It then proceeded to crawl under my foot, at which time I stepped on it, breaking it into lots of tiny pieces.
I called the corneal specialist, the only one in the state of Washington capable of dealing with
my cornea. Turns out he retired in January.
But, a new contact is on order, and the doctor is willing to see me one last time, to "hand me off" to the new specialist, I suppose. So hopefully all will be back to normal soon.
In the meantime, I'm pretty much blind in my left eye. So if it seems I'm ignoring you, or that I'm winking at you, or if I mix up a bunch of words when following my sermon notes tomorrow morning, it's probably just that I can't see anything.
I called the corneal specialist, the only one in the state of Washington capable of dealing with
my cornea. Turns out he retired in January.
But, a new contact is on order, and the doctor is willing to see me one last time, to "hand me off" to the new specialist, I suppose. So hopefully all will be back to normal soon.
In the meantime, I'm pretty much blind in my left eye. So if it seems I'm ignoring you, or that I'm winking at you, or if I mix up a bunch of words when following my sermon notes tomorrow morning, it's probably just that I can't see anything.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
A couple of things
- I'm heading down to the Covenant Annual Meeting tomorrow through Saturday, so I don't know if I'll be blogging anything over the next few days. I do look forward to seeing some old friends and maybe making some new ones. We're staying with my aunt and uncle in Tigard, so should have some good family time. And I hear Bruce and Katy are up from Turlock. . .
- Today was, I think, one of the final visits to the eye doctor for awhile. We've arrived at the place where it's about as good as it's gonna get. I had to accept that, due to the nature of this corneal thing, it just won't ever be perfect and pain-free. The lens that's in now is the lesser of all evils, according to Dr. Ralph. It gets me to 20/25 vision, and it mostly stays where it's supposed to. Although if I look to the right, it has a tendency to pop out. So if you want to sneak up on me, come from the right, as I won't be looking that way much. He did say technology is moving along rapidly, and hopefully in another 10 years they might be able to do a transplant that will take care of the whole thing. So until then, we make do.
- If I was a sociologist, this is what I'd study: It seems we've become a society who expect to have private moments in public spaces. There was an article in the P-I the other day about a park near Pike Place Market that is famous for two things: being a huge draw to tourists because of the view, and being a haven for homeless people, including many drug addicts. The arguments fly back and forth - compassion and understanding for the homeless vs. lock 'em all up so we can have a nice clean park. But I think, underlying it all, is the assumption that "I" can go to a public park and have a private little time there, not having to put up with other people, especially people I don't particularly care for. In reading the comments under this article, I sensed this idea again and again. "I should be able to go to a park and not have to be bothered by other people." The fact that they are homeless is merely a mask for the underlying feeling that public space should become private space.
I know it's not this way in other cultures. You go out in public to interact with the public. I don't think it was this way in America all that long ago - whenever we went camping we made the effort to meet our neighbors. But more and more, we are autonomous individuals assuming we can make our way through public space without having to interact with others (think ipods). And it comes to a head here - I should be able to go to the park and have my little time there and not have to have any interaction with others.
Anyway, I need to think it through more. Maybe you can comment and spur my thinking more.
As to the article in the other Seattle Paper about the Episcopalian Priest who claims also to be a Muslim. . .it's been too long a day to comment.
- Today was, I think, one of the final visits to the eye doctor for awhile. We've arrived at the place where it's about as good as it's gonna get. I had to accept that, due to the nature of this corneal thing, it just won't ever be perfect and pain-free. The lens that's in now is the lesser of all evils, according to Dr. Ralph. It gets me to 20/25 vision, and it mostly stays where it's supposed to. Although if I look to the right, it has a tendency to pop out. So if you want to sneak up on me, come from the right, as I won't be looking that way much. He did say technology is moving along rapidly, and hopefully in another 10 years they might be able to do a transplant that will take care of the whole thing. So until then, we make do.
- If I was a sociologist, this is what I'd study: It seems we've become a society who expect to have private moments in public spaces. There was an article in the P-I the other day about a park near Pike Place Market that is famous for two things: being a huge draw to tourists because of the view, and being a haven for homeless people, including many drug addicts. The arguments fly back and forth - compassion and understanding for the homeless vs. lock 'em all up so we can have a nice clean park. But I think, underlying it all, is the assumption that "I" can go to a public park and have a private little time there, not having to put up with other people, especially people I don't particularly care for. In reading the comments under this article, I sensed this idea again and again. "I should be able to go to a park and not have to be bothered by other people." The fact that they are homeless is merely a mask for the underlying feeling that public space should become private space.
I know it's not this way in other cultures. You go out in public to interact with the public. I don't think it was this way in America all that long ago - whenever we went camping we made the effort to meet our neighbors. But more and more, we are autonomous individuals assuming we can make our way through public space without having to interact with others (think ipods). And it comes to a head here - I should be able to go to the park and have my little time there and not have to have any interaction with others.
Anyway, I need to think it through more. Maybe you can comment and spur my thinking more.
As to the article in the other Seattle Paper about the Episcopalian Priest who claims also to be a Muslim. . .it's been too long a day to comment.
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