Could’ve Been Worse

I just got back from an appointment with the ophthalmologist where she did, in fact, stick a needle into my eyeball. The right eye hasn't really been responding to the steroid drops, the steroid injection under the brow bone, the first session of craniosacral therapy, or the Witch Doctor, and so we decided it was time to do something a bit more extreme.

"Just so I'm straight about this," I said, after Dr Myers-Powell described, in somewhat oblique terms, what she was going to do, "this is where I get a needle actually into my eyeball. Right?"

She laughed. "I really don't like to call it that," she said. "And I am very careful to make sure you feel nothing but pressure."

"Can I hold a barf bag in my lap?"

"If you really want one! Look," she said, "we can plan this for another day."

"No," I sighed, "that's okay. Let's do it. I don't see any reason to wait."

The procedure did not actually involve her withdrawing fluid from the eye; rather, she injected a medicine (Avastin, primarily used as a chemotherapy drug for colorectal cancer) designed to toughen up the teeny blood vessels and dry up the liquid from inside. My eye was numbed with several drops over 15 minutes preceding the actual needle, Betadine was spread over the closed lid, then she held my eye open, put a drop of Betadine on the white of my eye, and in two presses, inserted the microneedle and the medication.

I had to have my blood pressure taken before and after (100 over 60—normal for me), then I was set free on the roads of Seattle. I am now back home, wearing sunglasses in a dark room, waiting for my monthly dilation to return to normal, and feeling occasional remnant chills running up my spine.