Minnesota Prairie Roots

THE EYES HAVE IT. Until they don’t.

Next week I undergo bilateral strabismus eye surgery at M Health Fairview Clinics and Surgery Center in Minneapolis. Basically, I’m having surgery to align my misaligned eyes. The neuro ophthalmologist will cut into the white of my eyes and then the muscles, tightening them into alignment using adjustable sutures. That’s the plan. Randy has advised me not to watch any online videos. I have no intention of doing so. Reading about this surgery is more than enough for me.

The thing is, I’ve had this surgery before. Sixty-three years ago. I was just four, cross-eyed and needing medical intervention to correct my vision. Patching my lazy eye didn’t work. So my parents took me to a specialist in New Ulm 60 miles away from our southwestern Minnesota farm. Eventually, ophthalmologist Dr. Theodore Fritsche would do corrective eye surgery at Union Hospital. I will always be grateful to this surgeon and to my parents for recognizing I needed help or I likely would have gone blind in one eye.

I remember little about that long ago surgery except drinking tomato juice at the hospital and looking at books. The books I understand. But tomato juice? I like it now, but didn’t as a preschooler. I also remember getting orange circus peanut candy as a treat from the dime-store following my numerous appointments. I’ve blocked any other memories.

Fast forward to today and how I got here, on the brink of another corrective eye surgery.

As my neuro ophthalmologist explains, my eye muscles loosened through the decades, shifting my eyes into misalignment. My brain was compensating for the most part until I experienced neurological issues following a January 2023 viral infection suspected to be COVID. (I self-tested negative twice.) The niggles of double vision which had bothered me for a few years, mostly in the evening when I was tired, worsened. COVID messed up my brain function and communication between the brain and my eyes was misfiring. In the past year, it’s become increasingly difficult to only see one, even with prisms in my prescription lenses. Trying to see only one taxes, exhausts, me. Sometimes I can’t read. Sometimes I close one eye simply to eliminate the double vision. It is getting to be too much.

Once I completed 5 ½ months of vestibular rehab therapy to retrain my brain and help me deal with the devastating affects of long haul COVID, I was ready to see a professional about my double vision. I started locally. I went into an August ophthalmology appointment optimistically thinking I could simply get a new pair of prescription eyeglasses with more prisms added. Not so. As the ophthalmologist held up prism after prism to my eyes, it became clear nothing in his trays of prisms would effectively improve my vision. I was, he said, beyond his realm of expertise and would need to see a specialist.

After a several-month wait, I saw the neuro ophthalmologist at M Health Fairview in late October. Following 2 ½ hours of exhaustive testing, of looking through prisms and layers of prisms, I understood that I was well beyond the corrective lenses with prisms option. I would need surgery.

So here I am after another long wait—three months this time—on the cusp of bilateral strabismus eye surgery. I just want to be done. I am hopeful this outpatient surgery will fix my eyes and eliminate my double vision. Am I scared? Yes. The idea of undergoing general anesthesia and having a surgeon cut into my eyes and eye muscles is frightening. If only I could zoom back in time to my 4-year-old self who remembers nothing but books, tomato juice and circus peanut candy.

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FYI: If I’m absent from blogging for a while, it’s because I’m resting my eyes, recovering from surgery. I’ll be back, hopefully no longer seeing double.

© Copyright 2024 Audrey Kletscher Helbling