StemCell Therapy

HILARY LAZELL

It was a mundane return for me to the paradise of sight.

It was the moment when I noticed, eight yards from my writing desk, that for the first time in two years, I could see the central heating boiler and all of its pipes.

To someone who, months earlier, could hardly read a newspaper or see his granddaughters face from more than two feet away, the appliance looked beautiful.

The new clarity of vision marked the end of a four-year battle for my sight.

More was to come.

Days later, while cycling along a country lane, overlooking a river estuary with its patchwork of surrounding farmlands, a strange feeling of awe and gratitude came over me.

I realised that this vista, redolent of a Constable painting, dear to me for decades, had been restored to me at last.

The minor surgical procedure that preceded the return of my sight was the last and simplest of eight operations I had undergone since 2013.

I had not, up until just after my 60th birthday, been much of a drain upon the NHS resources: a few cuts and bruises incurred while gardening, the odd tumble from a bicycle.

Then, one winter morning, while standing on a railway platform, a friend looked at me and asked, Whats wrong with your eye?

HILARY LAZELL

Nothing, I replied uneasily.

Nonetheless, I made a hasty appointment with an optician.

Upon testing me he told me that my interocular pressure was rather high and immediately referred me to the local eye hospital.

After more tests I was diagnosed with a detached retina and thus began a series of operations, during which time further complications arose, now involving both eyes.

Untreatable glaucoma, numerous different eye drops, a retinal tear in my other eye and, finally, the spectre of blindness loomed darkly over me.

Fifty or so years ago I would probably have lost nearly all of my sight.

Advances in the field of eye medicine, however, have been such that much of my sight has been restored.

Now, whether you are religious or not, these medical teams are probably the closest thing on earth that many of us are likely to come to God.

Sight, the emperor of the senses, is something that many of us take for granted.

Yet, when it is taken away, in any measure at all, you dont half know about it.

Our NHS Ophthalmology teams dont, perhaps, always receive either the acclaim accorded to certain other medical departments but they are no less sterling for that.

Eye problems are on the increase in Britain.

One of the reasons is the UKs obesity epidemic.

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Being severely overweight can lead to diabetes.

This in turn leads to problems such as diabetic retinopathy, macular degeneration and cataracts.

The cause of my own problems is still unknown since I didnt have any other health problems, although I did have a rather lively, if not knockabout, younger life.

At its worst, during the dark months of last winter, my depleted sight was only functioning with the help of magnifying glasses, strong reading spectacles, extra-bright reading lights and the assistance of an audio typist to transcribe my work.

At one point, shortly after an operation, my depth perception was badly affected and during a poetry performance, for the first time ever, I fell off a stage, cracking my ribs in the process.

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Id failed to see where the stage ended and the floor began.

This was demoralising and I became mildly depressed, a thing that I had to fight hard to keep at bay.

Last spring, when the team at my local Ophthalmology department saw my sight had deteriorated further, they swung into action, arresting my chronic glaucoma by implanting a special draining device in my left eye.

Finally, a few weeks ago, they deemed the cataract in my good eye ready for removal.

When, about 24 hours after surgery, the sight came flooding back into my right eye, on a bright summer day, it was almost overwhelming, both physically and emotionally.

Id become so accustomed, by now to reduced vision that I hadnt realised quite how much of it was missing.

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Suddenly I could see not only the books upon my shelves but their titles too.

I could recognise people in the street again.

Friends whod guessed my predicament had taken to waving at me and calling my name if they saw me.

When out walking after dark, car headlights and street lamps resembled a scary firework display.

Weeks later, the novelty of having my sight back, even if at present it is in only one eye, still hasnt worn off.

If I have anything to say about my experience, it is this: Do have regular eye check-ups and if youre prescribed drops, take them.

A nurse told me that it is disheartening how many patients neglect to do so.

Dont be afraid of surgery, the idea of it is far more frightening than the actual experience, which usually involves discomfort more than pain.

I will not go anywhere this year. I want to stay here and enjoy the colours of an English autumn.

Its been a very long time.

See the article here:
Martin Newell: My new clarity of vision marks the end of a four-year battle for my sight - Express.co.uk

This entry was posted on August 28, 2017 at 1:42 am and is filed under Eye Sight & Vision. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed. |