Day 98: A Sight for Sore Eyes (literally)

 Several years ago, I went to Specsavers for my routine eye check-up. Thankfully, they were thorough because they spotted that I had Keratoconus — a bulging of the cornea.

I only remeber what it's called by thinking of Kerry Katona Eyes!

 I had to have eye surgery, which still gives me the shivers when I think about it. Having your eyelid clamped open while a scalpel approaches your eye? Terrifying. But it went well, and ever since, I’ve been extra cautious about any changes to my vision.

So last week, after a bout of deep cleaning, I noticed little threads floating in my right eye. At first, I thought I had something stuck on my eyelashes. Then I assumed it was something in my eye and went to the chemist for an eyewash. When I explained I had no pain or irritation, the pharmacist immediately told me to get my eyes checked. Apparently, what I was seeing were “floaters,” often caused by changes in eye pressure.

Cue panic mode. My right eye is my “good” eye, so obviously, in the space of five minutes, I had decided it was all downhill from here: blindness, nursing home, the works.

Back to Specsavers I went. After a full round of tests, they told me my eyesight had worsened slightly (hello, new glasses),

 but my retina and cornea looked fine. However, their machines could only see about 20% of the back of my eye, so they recommended a specialist clinic in Mullingar just to be safe.

Two days later, I missed a call — from the Institute of Eye Surgery in Waterford about my “emergency referral.” Excuse me, emergency?! In the time it took me to call back, I had fully catastrophised: I was obviously going blind, and my good eye was seconds from falling out.

Turns out, the “emergency” was just their standard referral. Two days later, I was in the clinic, had all the scans, and finally got the news: My eyes are perfectly healthy. Floaters, it seems, are just part of getting older. (Not loving that bit.)

Luckily, my sister had driven me because my pupils were so dilated from the drops that I looked like a drug addict. 

A week later, I picked up my new glasses, and I have to admit — I can see so much better.

It reminded me of Mrs. Keenan, who had cataract surgery in her late 80s. When asked if she was happy with the results, she said, “NO! Now I can see all my wrinkles!”

I feel a bit like that myself. Getting older — it's no laughing matter.