There I was, traipsing along to the Eye Clinic, with only one or two cares in the world: slightly blurry vision, and wondering if I should buy the new Laurel and Hardy Collection or wait for the bluray release. So when I sat in the big blue chair in front of the eye chart, I wasn't particularly concerned. Then, after I attempted reading the chart and the doctor asked, "Do you drive?", I knew something was up.
More tests, drops, and pics of my peepers, and my doctor determined I had macular edema. Macular edema, she explained, was swelling in the retina due to leakage from blood vessels. She recommended each eye be injected with Avastin, which she claimed was a new wonder drug.
I had three options: do nothing, but my vision wouldn't improve, and there was the possibility I could go blind; laser surgery, which would stop the leaking blood vessels, but wouldn't reduce the swelling or improve my vision; or the injections, which could likely stop the leakage, reduce the swelling, and improve my vision, provided I didn't contract an infection and go blind. Small chance, my doctor assured me, one in two thousand get infections, but still a risk.
So, being a decisive fellow, with Resolute my middle name (I much prefer it to "Lewis"), I opted for the injections, tout suite. The doc assured me, after a local anesthetic, I'd feel almost nothing. Well, she got that one wrong. It was the most excruciating pain I ever felt. Apparently, the anesthetic didn't take, and I felt the needle entering my left eye full-strength. Oy. All I can say is I never want to go through that again.
In a month, I have two more injections.
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