Rebirth

When people are asked to name the greatest day of their lives the usual responses are events such as, “my wedding”, “the birth of my first child” or “college graduation.” Not me. If someone asks me “What was the greatest day of your life?” I answer with two days, “May 23rd and 24th 2001.” And no I didn’t get married, graduate or have my first child on either of those dates. Those dates were the beginning of my rebirth.

I was born with strabismus, in laymen’s terms I was born cross-eyed. I had two surgeries, one when I was 9 months old and another when I was 9 years old. The first one was two correct both eyes and straighten them out. The second one was to correct my left eye, which had become lazy and because it was turning outward towards my ear it was affecting my vision. I was nearly blind in that eye so for a month before my second surgery I wore a patch over my right eye. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it? Well, it was a pirate’s patch. Very embarrassing for anyone but especially for a 9-year-old girl in elementary school. I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “Ahoy matey!” Or had someone say, “Arrrrrrrr” for no reason. The sad thing was I went through all of that for nothing because within 3 years my eye was turning outward again.

My friends didn’t treat me differently because of it but I was always self-conscious and aware of being different than everyone else. I know people who didn’t know me couldn’t tell where I was looking and some people actually would let me know. One guy in particular was extremely hurtful about it. His friend even said something to me and apologized for the guy, who didn’t apologize. At that point I was 19 and figured my lazy eye was just going to always be lazy and there was nothing I could do about it.

I became very introverted and some people perceived me as a “bitchy” or not friendly. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to be friendly I just was sick and tired of feeling like I had to explain why my eye was doing what it was doing. Over the years I learned how to talk to people without making eye contact and I would also turn my head to the side so it looked like both eyes were straight.

By the time I reached my mid 20s I had gotten so used to turning my head that most people didn’t know I had a lazy eye. And I figured I could live with it for the rest of my life until my Grandmother mentioned how upset she was that I never did anything about it and how much prettier I’d be if I were to get it fixed. I was pretty down after that. Grandmothers are supposed to love you no matter what, right?

So I just swept her comment under the rug for a while until a cold, grey February morning in 2001. One of my coworkers whom I was friendly with and I were washing our hands at the sink in the ladies room and she said, “I don’t want to pry but I noticed you have a lazy eye.” I felt like someone stabbed me in my gut. I nodded my head and she looked horrified and apologized, “I didn’t mean to upset you it’s just that one of my best friends is a surgeon and she specializes in that type of surgery.” I looked at her and said, “Oh yeah?” I didn’t want to get my hopes up. In my years of working in New York City I noticed a lot of other people with lazy eyes and figured if they still had them then there was nothing that could be done. “I will email you her info. You don’t have to go but I think she can really help you.” I immediately called my best friend who threatened to never speak to me again until I made appointment. She knows how to push my buttons and that was frankly the only I was going to call the doctor. Part of me was terrified because I was convinced the doctor would see me and say, “Sorry but there’s nothing we can do.”

I couldn’t have been more wrong. My appointment wasn’t until April 12th so I had a lot of time to think of scenarios in my head. The day of my appointment I was nervous but slightly hopeful.

After talking to the doctor for ten minutes she says, “Okay so how is May 23rd for your surgery?” I looked at her, puzzled and asked, “You mean six weeks from now?” She nodded. She was so sure of herself, which eased my fears a lot. She guaranteed that not only would she straighten my eye but also that it would probably stay that way forever. “It’s a Wednesday and you’ll have to take a least a week off from work, maybe more for the recovery.” I nodded my head and was so excited I wanted to jump up and down in her office. Thankfully I restrained myself. For the first time in a long time I was happy and hopeful. When I got back to work I told my boss about the surgery and she was excited for me. I was the happiest I had been in years…or so I thought.

The morning of the surgery I was unusually calm but that was most likely because I had 3 panic attacks the previous day.

I remember waiting to go in for the surgery with other patients. I remember them all having strips of tape on their faces, above their right eye or left eye, obviously depending on which one was being operated. I remember realizing I didn’t have a piece of tape on my forehead but I hoped it was because my doctor knew and didn’t need to be reminded which eye she was working on. Although she did play a joke on me beforehand and say, “Were operating on the right eye today, right?” And then she started laughing. I guess to ease my nervousness. I’ll admit I was a tad nervous waiting especially since my surgery was delayed. I stared at the clock in the pre-op room and literally twiddled my thumbs waiting to be called. When they called my name, they walked me into the operating room. I was wheeled into the operating room for the second surgery so I found it odd that I had to walk in and climb onto the operating table. I crossed myself like any good Catholic would do before I walked into the room and climbed up onto the table. I laid back and the anesthesiologist explained that they were going to put the IV into my arm. I was hoping that they would knock me out first with gas, and then put the IV in but no such luck. She told me to tighten my fist; she wiped my arm with a swab of alcohol and stuck the needle into my arm. It was probably the worst pain I had ever felt up until that point. I could actually feel the alcohol seeping into my vein with the IV tube and thought I was going to die. Thankfully the pain only lasted ten seconds because the last thing I heard the anesthesiologist say was, “You have great veins.” Before I could say something back to her I was out cold.

The next thing I see is white light, for those first few moments I thought that maybe I didn’t make it. Then as my right eye began to focus I realized that the white light I was seeing was actually a florescent light in the recovery room and as I came to I noticed I was staring up at the white ceiling tiles next to the light. This recovery was a little more frightening then when I was nine years old. At twenty-seven I was more aware of what was going on and more aware of what should be going on with my body. It felt as if my body was waking up inch by inch; first my head, my eyes, my mouth and downward to my toes. It was as if someone was slowly passing a magic wand over my body from head to toe, causing it to wake up. I felt paralyzed; I started to panic slightly when I couldn’t move my arms or legs. I tried in vain to wiggle my fingers and after about a minute or so I was able to. When I was able to move my toes I knew that I was going to come out of it intact, well at least my body was intact. We would find out about the eye the next day.

The rest of the surgery day is a bit hazy, although I do recall my mom walking me into a set of doors, not once but twice at the hospital when we were leaving. I had one eye bandaged and something flew into my right eye and I couldn’t get it out so I was walking with both eyes closed. To this day I never let her live that down. Twice! Once into a set of doors in the hallway and then two minutes later she walked me into the elevator doors!

That night I passed out relatively early and slept through the whole night, propped up so high with pillows I was practically sitting up. Thank God for the anesthesia not wearing off right away because I am a stomach sleeper.

I had an appointment the next day to get the bandage taken off. I was extremely nervous about it. Before the surgery I was having nightmares about the bandage being taken off and my eye being off center, or completely backwards. I’d always wake up in a cold sweat. I remember sitting in the chair and taking a few deep breaths before the doctor came in. She walked in with her air of confidence and looked at me and said, “It will be fine. I know it.” She slowly and carefully removed the bandage and when I opened the eye she cried out, “Oh my God!” I became frightened and she quickly explained her reaction. “It’s beautiful!” I knew it couldn’t be that beautiful, they had gone in and detached the muscles, cut them and reattached them to my eyeball. If anything it was probably bloodshot and crusty. She held a mirror in front of me and I was right. My eye was completely bloodshot but she was also right because it was beautiful and it was perfectly straight. I started crying, my mom started crying and my doctor was pleased. She went onto explain that she thought I was going to be more swollen so when she removed the bandage and saw that I wasn’t she had that reaction.

Our first stop after the appointment was Grandma’s apartment. I walked in with my huge Jackie O sunglasses and took them off for her. She had tears in her eyes and said, “Oh you’re so beautiful!” And for the first time in my life, even with my bloodshot eye, I actually felt beautiful.