I love that I am able to quickly process my emotions and thoughts. I am in touch with my body and mind and when a pot hole in the road of life occurs, I am able to notice it, slow down, go into the hole, face the darkness, and then climb back out and get back on the road again.
It was disheartening to hear from the eye specialist on 3 April, five weeks post surgery, ‘I’m really sorry Natalie, you are not adjusting to the customised lens like I thought you would. It is a bigger and stronger lens than normal...’. His sentence literally trailed off there. There were no further words or explanations to help me understand what was going on. What was going wrong.
He asked me to move with him to another room and I instinctively reached for my glasses, which were sitting on his table after my eye exam. I get chills as I recall my hand gently reaching for the prescription glasses and the specialists’ hand jutting out and preventing me from picking them up. He looked at me with concern and bewilderment and said ‘you can’t even walk to the other room without them?’
The concern on his face brings a tear to my eye. My amazing eye specialist really thought this was the gift of sight. There was no reason in his mind that this surgery wasn’t going to work, that it was going to give me the freedom and independence I had longed for.
Seeing a grown, professional, man looking at you with concern and disappointment; disappointment in himself, disappointment potentially in my brain’s integrity to handle such strong device, is heart breaking.
There was no flippant look, no dismissing of the double vision, no ‘I did my best’.
He explored my double vision further and without glasses I could read only the top two lines of the eye chart. All of the lines on the eye chart were in soft focus, a dull grey, with illegible letters and lines joining them up together. Basically one big mess.
The specialist said that with the help of prescription glasses he hopes to be able to clea