Olympics, eye surgery and the rest.
WELL, HI.
Typically, we have a lot to catch up on. As usual, I put off writing it because there is SO MUCH.
I last updated on July 5th, according to LJ, in which the teaching term was about to end and a 6-week holiday was about to begin.
So… I left my previous job after my contract ended. I had been quietly hoping that a space would miraculously open up for me, but was also enough of a realist to know it probably wouldn’t happen, and it didn’t.
Anyway, SUMMER! The torrential rain of June/July came to an end just in time for the summer holidays, which was just lovely of it. I kicked it off with a celebratory lunch at Adele’s house in which I celebrated and Adele threatened to kill me. Just because I get 13 weeks off a year, and she gets 5…
The end of July was rounded off with a trip to London to see THE OLYMPICS! I have been excited about this fact ever since it was announced however-many-years-ago it was. There was no doubt to me, even back then, that HELL YES, I’d be buying tickets. And so, me, Mum, Dad and Hazel travelled down to watch Judo and Boxing. I enjoyed the judo more than the boxing for no reason I can particularly pin down. Both were essentially repetition of the same sort of people attacking each other. I dunno, boxing was in the afternoon and I was tired by then, having gotten up at 5am-something. Also, we spent the 3 hours or whatever it was at boxing with our heads turned 45◦ to the right, because of the position of our seats. That gets tiring and achy after a while.
That night, I was ill. As in cold sweats and uncontrollable shivering ill. But woke up in the end feeling pretty okay and we trotted off down to London, early morning again, to see weightlifting. This was enjoyable also and quite entertaining in its own way. Got home absolutely shattered, in bed by 8pm and woke up the next morning with a special brand of extremely chesty cough. Thus the mystery chills the night before were explained. Not sure where it came from though. No one I spent any length of time with was ill, and I can’t believe I caught it that quick during 2 trips to London in the middle of summer. I go to London all the time and have never caught anything. It must have been a random person in Tesco or something.
Anyway, when I get a cough, I GET A COUGH. So, for a good week, I stayed in, watched the Olympics and coughed. Annoyed to be missing good summer fun.
On the 24th August, I had my corrective squint surgery on my left eye. Now, kudos to the NHS, it was only about April that I was first referred, so to be in for, what is basically “cosmetic” surgery (although they called it a “quality of life improvement”) in 4 months, is surprising and impressive.
On surgery day itself, I went to the day surgery unit, got in my sexy operation robe, anti-embolism stockings and dressing gown, only to be told there was a problem in the operating theatre and we’d have to relocate to another department. Now, hospitals are not small and are also quite public. And so, I walked out the building, CROSSED A ROAD, and through the corridors to the eye unit, to take advantage of their theatre. All the while dressed for surgery. Stylish. And perhaps not terribly sterile. All the surgery staff scrub up. I, quite literally, wander in off the street.
I was put into a private room and left to wait for a short while as the surgeon and his team prepped. The anaesthetists assistant came to check my ID bracelets, I had to explain what I was having surgery for (covering consent procedures I guess), and then the surgeon stuck his head round the door to SING TO ME a warped excerpt of “They’re Coming To Take Me Away, ha ha!”. Only, he replaced the word “me” with the word “you”, and you’ll realise why the NHS is flippin’ awesome.
Taken through to pre-op and wired to machines with those little circular sticky monitor things. 2 on my upper chest, one on my upper arm (what the frig was that one measuring?). The anaesthetist, whom I’d already met was chatting away about his daughter starting school in September as he put the canula in the back of my hand, while his assistant held an oxygen mask over my face. I heard the assistant tell the anaesthetist “it won’t work if you don’t turn it on” (nice), then I was out. No faffing around, no “I feel sleepy”, just OUT. Like turning off a switch. Looking back on it now, it was a very peaceful and non-anxiety-producing way to be knocked out.
Woken up some time later by a hand shaking at my shoulder, calling “Sally… Sally…!” Cracked open the good eye to watch a drip bag being unclipped and carried away. Then a vague sensation of being wheeled back to my private room, somehow roused enough to transfer myself from trolley to the bed, given some water through a straw and left to my own devices for a bit. Later brought coffee and an egg and tomato sandwich (not a natural pairing in my eye(s)). Mum and Dad were called back, read the paper and played (slightly ironically) “I Spy”.
After a loo stop (apparently essential before I could be discharged), my canula was taken out, but not compressed for long enough, successfully saturating the plaster with blood, and we had call the nurse back for another attempt.
The bandage covering my left eye was removed and I was generally cleaned off. Surprised to find I couldn’t open the eyelid and said so. No one seemed to respond to my comment, so I remember I kept repeating it until the nurse finally said it was totally normal due to anaesthetic and bruising.
Drops were put in, a plastic eye guard placed over the top and taped in place, and I was discharged. Felt okay when I got home, didn’t want to eat though. Felt a bit vomity overnight and the next morning but wasn’t. Took a long mid-afternoon nap and was then fine.
As for the eye itself, 3 weeks post-surgery, it’s doing okay. It’s still quite blood-shot, and alternates between gungy and dry. The vision is still a bit blurry as the muscles and my brain get used to the new eyeball shape/positioning. The stitches are still in place at the top of my iris, which is causing my eyelid to not really want to open fully, which is annoying and makes me look sleepy/stoned.
In my post-op check-up, the eye was declared “perfectly straight”, which makes it a job well done!
I have another appointment in early October, and I think that might be it. From then on, I wish to declare myself DONE WITH HOSPITALS for the foreseeable future. What with broken elbows, physiotherapy, multiple pre-op eye checks and post-op checks, this past year I’ve been at the hospital quite a lot. Having not had any reason at all for the past 20 years, I think I’ve cost the NHS enough for the time being. They have been nothing short of fantastic at every stage of my dealings with them over the past 12 months. I dread to think what this would have cost elsewhere in the world. The answer is A LOT. Hurrah for the health service. It CAN be done.
In other news, I got my hair cut short. No. SHORT SHORT. It’s very easy to look after, that’s for sure.
Typically, we have a lot to catch up on. As usual, I put off writing it because there is SO MUCH.
I last updated on July 5th, according to LJ, in which the teaching term was about to end and a 6-week holiday was about to begin.
So… I left my previous job after my contract ended. I had been quietly hoping that a space would miraculously open up for me, but was also enough of a realist to know it probably wouldn’t happen, and it didn’t.
Anyway, SUMMER! The torrential rain of June/July came to an end just in time for the summer holidays, which was just lovely of it. I kicked it off with a celebratory lunch at Adele’s house in which I celebrated and Adele threatened to kill me. Just because I get 13 weeks off a year, and she gets 5…
The end of July was rounded off with a trip to London to see THE OLYMPICS! I have been excited about this fact ever since it was announced however-many-years-ago it was. There was no doubt to me, even back then, that HELL YES, I’d be buying tickets. And so, me, Mum, Dad and Hazel travelled down to watch Judo and Boxing. I enjoyed the judo more than the boxing for no reason I can particularly pin down. Both were essentially repetition of the same sort of people attacking each other. I dunno, boxing was in the afternoon and I was tired by then, having gotten up at 5am-something. Also, we spent the 3 hours or whatever it was at boxing with our heads turned 45◦ to the right, because of the position of our seats. That gets tiring and achy after a while.
That night, I was ill. As in cold sweats and uncontrollable shivering ill. But woke up in the end feeling pretty okay and we trotted off down to London, early morning again, to see weightlifting. This was enjoyable also and quite entertaining in its own way. Got home absolutely shattered, in bed by 8pm and woke up the next morning with a special brand of extremely chesty cough. Thus the mystery chills the night before were explained. Not sure where it came from though. No one I spent any length of time with was ill, and I can’t believe I caught it that quick during 2 trips to London in the middle of summer. I go to London all the time and have never caught anything. It must have been a random person in Tesco or something.
Anyway, when I get a cough, I GET A COUGH. So, for a good week, I stayed in, watched the Olympics and coughed. Annoyed to be missing good summer fun.
On the 24th August, I had my corrective squint surgery on my left eye. Now, kudos to the NHS, it was only about April that I was first referred, so to be in for, what is basically “cosmetic” surgery (although they called it a “quality of life improvement”) in 4 months, is surprising and impressive.
On surgery day itself, I went to the day surgery unit, got in my sexy operation robe, anti-embolism stockings and dressing gown, only to be told there was a problem in the operating theatre and we’d have to relocate to another department. Now, hospitals are not small and are also quite public. And so, I walked out the building, CROSSED A ROAD, and through the corridors to the eye unit, to take advantage of their theatre. All the while dressed for surgery. Stylish. And perhaps not terribly sterile. All the surgery staff scrub up. I, quite literally, wander in off the street.
I was put into a private room and left to wait for a short while as the surgeon and his team prepped. The anaesthetists assistant came to check my ID bracelets, I had to explain what I was having surgery for (covering consent procedures I guess), and then the surgeon stuck his head round the door to SING TO ME a warped excerpt of “They’re Coming To Take Me Away, ha ha!”. Only, he replaced the word “me” with the word “you”, and you’ll realise why the NHS is flippin’ awesome.
Taken through to pre-op and wired to machines with those little circular sticky monitor things. 2 on my upper chest, one on my upper arm (what the frig was that one measuring?). The anaesthetist, whom I’d already met was chatting away about his daughter starting school in September as he put the canula in the back of my hand, while his assistant held an oxygen mask over my face. I heard the assistant tell the anaesthetist “it won’t work if you don’t turn it on” (nice), then I was out. No faffing around, no “I feel sleepy”, just OUT. Like turning off a switch. Looking back on it now, it was a very peaceful and non-anxiety-producing way to be knocked out.
Woken up some time later by a hand shaking at my shoulder, calling “Sally… Sally…!” Cracked open the good eye to watch a drip bag being unclipped and carried away. Then a vague sensation of being wheeled back to my private room, somehow roused enough to transfer myself from trolley to the bed, given some water through a straw and left to my own devices for a bit. Later brought coffee and an egg and tomato sandwich (not a natural pairing in my eye(s)). Mum and Dad were called back, read the paper and played (slightly ironically) “I Spy”.
After a loo stop (apparently essential before I could be discharged), my canula was taken out, but not compressed for long enough, successfully saturating the plaster with blood, and we had call the nurse back for another attempt.
The bandage covering my left eye was removed and I was generally cleaned off. Surprised to find I couldn’t open the eyelid and said so. No one seemed to respond to my comment, so I remember I kept repeating it until the nurse finally said it was totally normal due to anaesthetic and bruising.
Drops were put in, a plastic eye guard placed over the top and taped in place, and I was discharged. Felt okay when I got home, didn’t want to eat though. Felt a bit vomity overnight and the next morning but wasn’t. Took a long mid-afternoon nap and was then fine.
As for the eye itself, 3 weeks post-surgery, it’s doing okay. It’s still quite blood-shot, and alternates between gungy and dry. The vision is still a bit blurry as the muscles and my brain get used to the new eyeball shape/positioning. The stitches are still in place at the top of my iris, which is causing my eyelid to not really want to open fully, which is annoying and makes me look sleepy/stoned.
In my post-op check-up, the eye was declared “perfectly straight”, which makes it a job well done!
I have another appointment in early October, and I think that might be it. From then on, I wish to declare myself DONE WITH HOSPITALS for the foreseeable future. What with broken elbows, physiotherapy, multiple pre-op eye checks and post-op checks, this past year I’ve been at the hospital quite a lot. Having not had any reason at all for the past 20 years, I think I’ve cost the NHS enough for the time being. They have been nothing short of fantastic at every stage of my dealings with them over the past 12 months. I dread to think what this would have cost elsewhere in the world. The answer is A LOT. Hurrah for the health service. It CAN be done.
In other news, I got my hair cut short. No. SHORT SHORT. It’s very easy to look after, that’s for sure.