More botched cataracts surgery

I’ve probably mentioned a dozen times already that my eye surgeon has bad communication skills. Infuriatingly bad communication skills. . . I just found out today — two weeks after my botched cataracts surgery — that she actually removed the lens in my left eye. She just happened to mention it to me now — TWO FUCKING WEEKS LATER — and only because I repeatedly questioned her about the process. To try and figure out what’s going on. Otherwise she wouldn’t bother to tell me ANYTHING.

I was under the impression that when she tried to do the cataracts surgery, my eye started bleeding heavily internally, preventing her from doing the surgery (and I only managed to find THAT out by repeatedly questioning her). What I DIDN’T know — until just now — was that she had actually done HALF the surgery before things went south. With cataracts, they remove the lens of your eye and replace it with an artificial lens (it’s basically the equivalent of having the prescription lens of your glasses implanted inside your eye). But after removing my lens, all the blood made it impossible for her to replace it with the artificial lens. So she did half the surgery, basically.

On the one hand, it could have been worse — the lens in my left eye was mostly blind already anyways, aside from a bit of perepheal vision that I still had. But for godsakes if you’re going to take out the lens of my eye, the LEAST you can fucking do is TELL me about it!!

I don’t know if this is going to cause me any problems down the line — no longer having a lens on that eye. And I certainly can’t count on her to EXPLAIN it to me.

But that’s just how she talks. She never looks you in the eye and explains things. And then explain TWICE just to make sure she’s made herself clear. She just sort of darts around in her office, sort of talking out of the side of her mouth — like these quiet little asides that she sort of mumbles in your general direction — as she’s prancing about doing her business. It’s maddening. . . And now — on TOP of her poor communication skills, I suspect she’s being DOUBLEY cagey so as not to admit to any wrongdoing on her part.

So when I’m talking to her, we’re both doing this dance where we talk calmly and politely. I don’t want to blame her, because I don’t want her to get defensive, she’s still the only person I can talk to that might be able to help my situation right now — or to keep it from getting worse. While she doesn’t want to come right out and admit she made a mistake. And she made several.

I have to wait until a week from next Friday to see my regular eye doctor (they’re still way over-booked because of the Lockdown). When I can hopefully FINALLY get some kind of a straight answer from SOMEBODY.

Meanwhile, I’ve had enough trauma and stress over the last two weeks to at least warrant a half a lifetime of extensive mental therapy. So fuck it. I’m gonna drink a beer or six and try and calm down. Sheesh!!

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