A Site (sic) for Sore Eyes…
We get beyond our 50’s and start to collect injuries: bad backs, tennis elbow, dodgy knees, and then the eyes start to go. That bit has only hit me in the last few years and it’s depressing.
I mentioned what had now become my pet subject to a couple of opponents after a match. One of them said ‘Don’t talk to me about eyes. The subject drives me crazy.’
But the other one told me that she’d had laser treatment, which had totally changed her life. ‘20/20 vision’ she declared, and recommended where to go for the treatment.
Well, I shot round there the following day.
They explained how it all worked but I didn’t take much in. I’m squeamish, and when they talked about making flaps in my eyeballs, I switched off in terror.
The day of the op. came round after a few sleepless nights.
I was led to a waiting room where I found a group of jittery fellow-patients, all indulging in ‘eye talk’. Within minutes, we were best friends.
We started to clap each patient in turn into the surgery room. Each one emerged looking a bit dazed. ‘How was it?’ ‘Did it hurt?’ ‘What happened?’ we asked.
‘Can’t you see the blood spurting from her eyes?’ said the jovial Irishman… lots of nervous laughter, at which point, the surgeon came out to ask us to quieten down because it was putting her off and making patients nervous.
We all laughed hysterically and then went very quiet like naughty school kids.
Well, it turned out, during my consultation with the surgeon, that there was a risk. Peeling off the eyeball layer had weakened it, and another four days in darkroom agony was a real possibility after the surgery, along with a gritty feeling in that eye for up to six months..
The gang were getting ready to clap me in and were somewhat thrown when I said I wasn’t going through with it. I felt like a traitor to the cause.
And then I read this! I’m beginning to think I made the right decision…