Matilda Ziegler Magazine for the Blind the source for blindness news and information since 1907

Cornea Transplant

Last week, I wrote a short introduction for you.  I wanted to follow that up with a story about a cornea transplant that I had in 2007.  Before the transplant, my vision had slowly become cloudy and blurry.  This happened over a ten year period.  In the beginning, I was not aware that anything was happening.  I figured it was just what would happen to me as I aged, but I finally decided that I needed to know what was going on.  I discussed the situation with three of my eye doctors and made the decision to have the transplant.

Things had gotten to a point where I could no longer write checks, I could no longer enjoy watching television, I could no longer identify specific items in stores, I could no longer identify my parents and I couldn’t navigate my parent’s house, which was where I grew up.  At times, I would either trip over or step on Whitlee, my guide dog.  I taught her to come to my hand when I called her to avoid the possibility of getting seriously hurt.

On Wednesday, March 28, 2007, I had a cornea transplant.  I stayed at my parent’s house the night before and strangely enough, was able to sleep without many nervous thoughts.  We all got up at 6 o’clock Wednesday morning to prepare and drive to Yale New Haven Hospital.  I was advised to wear comfortable clothes so I wore sweat pants and a blue t shirt with sneakers and white socks.

During the drive to the hospital I was remembering how difficult things had become over the past several years, how blurry everything appeared to me and how many things I had stopped doing and how unhappy I had become.  This transplant was going to potentially make everything better.  Since the time of my decision to have the transplant, I had been thinking that only good things were going to come of the surgery.  These positive thoughts made the ride to the hospital seem better.  But while the ride was long, it was not long enough.  My nerves had begun to get to me and I wanted the ride to be longer.  Soon, we arrived at the hospital and while my father looked for parking, my mother and I walked inside.  We rode the elevator up to the third floor as we were instructed and when we got out, we went to the admissions desk and I gave them my name.  A nurse came over and gave me a wheel chair.  She came back a few moments later with a wrist band with my name on it for identification purposes.

The nurse began to explain to me what would be happening over the next few hours.  She then took my blood pressure and temperature.  Once that was complete, she began to put drops into my left eye in preparation for the surgery.  Soon after, the doctor arrived and said that they were going to do their very best job during the surgery.  Once he had left, the anesthesiologist came and said they were going to put me to sleep for the operation, that they were going to give me a breathing tube, they would give me a diuretic to drain the fluid away from my eyes and that they were going to give me a catheter.  Since I had not had surgery since I was a baby, it all sounded overwhelming to me.  But I figured since it would all happen when I was asleep, it did not matter.

Finally, the nurse said it was time to go into the operating room.  So, I kissed my parents goodbye and they wheeled me down the hall to the operating room.  As we went, I felt very much like crying because I felt like for those moments and the next few hours, my decision had caused me to have no control over anything.  It was a strange feeling, like, “Ok, now this is it and there is no turning back, I can’t say no now, it’s a go!”

When we arrived in the operating room, I noticed the lights were bright and the floor was so clean it looked as though it was a clear glass, maybe what people see when they go to fancy places like the White House or on a ball room floor.  They asked me to lay on the operating table which was actually a bed.  They took off my sweat pants and gave me some warm massaging pads for my legs.  There were about four or five people in the room at this point and it began to become overwhelming because everyone was telling me what they were going to do and all of a sudden I could not concentrate on any of them or what they were doing.  There was no pain involved in anything up to that point.

Suddenly, I felt peaceful, calm, quiet, relaxed, painless, and unemotional.  But I realized I was awake and there was a dark patch over my eye, the operation was over and the doctors voice saying, “This is the doctor, everything went very well.”  The next thing I remember, I tried to call to my mother, but not much sound came out of my mouth.  When I breathed, the monitor began to beep faster.  A nurse asked me if I was awake and I believe I shook my head or something.  The next thing I knew, my mother was calling out to me.  “Hello Steve, your all done and the doctor said you did very well!”  It was all a strange sensation.  I was awake but could not see anything.

My mother asked me if I wanted to go home and I shook my head no, I felt like resting a while longer.  The nurse brought me a bottle of water and it was helpful because I was quite thirsty.  Finally, I felt ready to get up, get dressed and to go home.  The nurse then took out the IV and I was able to slowly stand up and get dressed.  We then walked for a short distance and the nurse gave me a wheel chair and they wheeled me to the valet parking pick up area.  It took several moments, but our car finally arrived.  On the way home, we stopped to get some prescriptions that the doctor gave me for infection control and pain relief.

When we arrived at home, Whitlee was very happy to see us.  We had been gone from 6:00 AM until 2:00 PM.  I decided to take Whitlee out to go to the bathroom.  For the first time, I could not see anything and I realized that I must truly trust her to guide me out the back door, to the edge of the back porch, to the top of the stairs, to the bottom of the stairs, to the grass and then reverse the route to get back to the back door.  Whitlee did everything perfectly.  She relieved herself, brought me back to the bottom of the stairs, stopped at the bottom of the stairs and waited for my command, brought me to the top of the stairs and waited to bring me to the back door.  We made it!  I did not trip or stumble at all!  What an awesome dog.  Each time I had to take Whitlee outside, she did everything perfectly. 

The next day, I visited the doctor for my first post-surgery check up.  The nurse came in and went through the file and asked some questions.  She then instructed me to remove the patch that had been placed on my eye since the surgery the previous day.  I slowly removed the patch and sat in the chair.  “You can open your eye,” she laughed.  So, I slowly opened my eye. 

The nurse instructed me to come into the next room, but I couldn’t get up, I couldn’t move.  I just kept looking at everything.  First, I saw my hand, I saw the lines in my hand, I saw the floor through the spaces through my fingers.  I saw the floor, the contrast between the floor, the walls and the door, I saw Whitlee, all of the contrasts of colors in her fur coat, the color of her clear, brown eyes.  I saw my parents and it was all so wonderful, so clear, so nice, so bright, so completely awesome.  I just started to cry because I couldn’t believe that after all those months and years of seeing cloudy, seeing blurry, feeling lost, feeling hopeless, that it was over and all back to normal for me.

Several days later, my family had a party to celebrate the occasion.  We had a huge spread of food and my grandmother made her famous homemade apple squares.  Some of my friends visited me and took me out for ice cream.  Needless to say, I felt like I would explode by the time I got back home that evening from all of the wonderful food.  It truly was a time worthy of a celebration and the entire experience reminded me of waking up on Christmas morning when you are a child.  You believe in Santa Claus and you have this joyful feeling when you look under the tree and see huge piles of presents.  I hope to carry this feeling and remember it whenever life gets difficult.

A few months later, I took the family to Disney World in Orlando, Florida to celebrate.  The flight down to Florida was smooth and I could see the ground getting smaller and smaller during our take off and the clear skies as we flew to Florida.  All through the flight, I kept thinking how wonderful it was to see everything around me clearly again.

We spent several days exploring the theme parks and Whitlee did a great job guiding me around, moving through the crowds and taking me around obstacles.  She actually always does a better job traveling than I do.  During our trip we met many happy, curious people who enjoyed talking with my family and I about Whitlee.  At times, Whitlee got lucky enough to have some people pet her when we were not moving.  She experienced riding the monorail and a few of the slower, calmer rides.  She also enjoyed long afternoon naps on my bed in the hotel room.  After all it was vacation, so it was ok for her to lounge on the bed. 

The trip to Florida was the happiest one of my life because I had Whitlee, my family and my clear vision.  I just felt so grateful and so happy to be alive.