I had my surgery yesterday. I was asked to report at 8 a.m., after a breakfast. Pre-operative preparations were begun on me and the others who were also scheduled for a surgery, some for the Laser (FEMTO) and some for the regular procedure of phacoemulcification. They checked my BP and it was 147/83! Was I nervous? Totally! They gave me a mild anti-anxiety tablet - "Will this make me drowsy", I asked. The sister smiled and said, "Ma'am, it's only 25 mg!" Once I was being prepared I knew that there was no way of me changing my mind now and that the only option I had before me was to get this over and done with, praying, of course, for a successful surgery. Once I had accepted my situation as a fait accompli, I was more at ease. We were then segregated into groups, depending on the procedure we were to be treated with, and administered the drops for dilatation, antibiotic drops etc. There were about 8 of us who were opted for the laser procedure and I was the youngest until a young girl in her very early twenties was ushered into the room. I wondered what her problem might have been.
The air in the lounge was filled with M.S.Subbalakshmi's 'Bhaja Govindam...' and I soon found everyone around me fast asleep, some even snoring! I felt relaxed. But, even at this stage, the lens that would be implanted remained undecided for me, since I had decided on a monofocal, against the doctor's suggestion of a trifocal. The doctor came in at around 9:30 am, "a little later than usual since he flew back into the city quite late in the night", I was told. He saw each one of us, checking if our pupil was dilated well. I was the third in line for the procedure and I mentioned that my lens was as yet undecided. He looked at the chart as I told him I wanted "the best monofocal". He simply said, "Tecnis" and instructed the attendants accordingly. There was no scope for any further discussion!
Now, while I was going through the process of Counselling, where I was taken through the procedure and the IOL was discussed, the lady mentioned 'packages' that they had - a simple monofocal lens, monofocal toric lens (for astigmatism correction), premium lenses and premium toric lenses. Insurance companies do not pay for, or reimburse, costs of laser procedure and choice of premium lenses, both of which aren't considered a medical necessity, rather a luxury. It is a different matter that, in my case, the laser procedure was a necessity. I realised that the lens I wanted didn't fit into any of their 'packages'! I was told that I could not avail of my cashless insurance if I did not go with one of the basic packages that they had MoUs with the agencies. I told the lady that I want the best monofocal, even if did not fall into any insurance related package, and would either apply for a reimbursement of the basic costs, incurring the rest myself, or simply forego the insurance facility! I simply did not want to compromise on the lens.
Cut to the waiting lounge: once my pupil was dilated and I was administered all other necessary drops, I was taken into the laser room where the Catalys machine scanned my eye, marked the Capsulohexis (the cut on anterior the lens capsule through which the natural lens is removed and the new IOL rests against; this cut is important because the size and exactness of the shape influence how the lens rests), the cataract was softened, the incisions on the cornea (called side ports)through which the doctor would have access into the lens capsule, were all done. This took about 40-44 seconds.
I was then taken into the ante-room of the OT. I was number three in the queue. Only one 'attender' was permitted to accompany me outside this room to maintain the necessary sanitisation/sterile requirements. Dhananjay waited here, while Riddhi was downstairs, kept company by two of her favourite aunts, Ashwini and Veena, who were kind enough to have dropped by despite their busy schedules. (We had this very abrupt and dramatic separation when Riddhi wasn't permitted to go upstairs with me and I was in the elevator, as the doors closed, and both of us began to cry at this unprepared-for/unanticipated separation!).
As I waited inside, No.1 one went in and was out in 5 minutes, lead by the nursing attendant ; No.2 went in and was out in 5 minutes, also lead outside by a nursing attendant. Dhananjay, then, expected me to be out in the next 5-7 minutes but that wasn't to happen. I, too, was awaiting my turn inside, but was more aware of the situation that caused the delay in my being taken in, so wasn't perturbed; it wasn't the same for Dhananjay, though, who was apparently pacing up and down, nervously, even as 45 minutes elapsed after No.2 had walked out, and there was no sight of me. Poor man! I learnt that an emergency had taken away the doctor who was to do my procedure and hence the delay.
When I was finally taken in, I started talking to the doctor, who was as warm inside the OT as he was cordial outside. We talked about the lens he had chosen, addressing my concerns of good vision in mesopic conditions: " I attend music concerts so will I be able to see well in low light?" etc. "Incidentally, my grandmother and father, too, had undergone the procedure with you. I am the third generation, doctor!" "That goes to show my how old I am", he said. There was a wonderful camaraderie with a few laughs, too. It was all done in 3 1/2 minutes. I thanked the doctor and bade hm goodbye, only after asking him if there was a PCR, to which he responded in the negative.
And then, as was the practise, I was guided out, despite my protests, and I saw Dhananjay there, worried as hell. I waved happily as he came running to me and asked if all was okay and why I was in so long. "Had a nice chat with the doc", I said with a twinkle in my 'new' eye, which escaped his notice, being hidden behind the most horrendous black glasses. "Can't I wear a good RayBan", I had asked. "No, ma'am", was the stern response I got. Serve me right!
I went for my follow up this morning and all was well. Today, Day 1 of my 'recupacation' and I am already bored.
Now, while I was going through the process of Counselling, where I was taken through the procedure and the IOL was discussed, the lady mentioned 'packages' that they had - a simple monofocal lens, monofocal toric lens (for astigmatism correction), premium lenses and premium toric lenses. Insurance companies do not pay for, or reimburse, costs of laser procedure and choice of premium lenses, both of which aren't considered a medical necessity, rather a luxury. It is a different matter that, in my case, the laser procedure was a necessity. I realised that the lens I wanted didn't fit into any of their 'packages'! I was told that I could not avail of my cashless insurance if I did not go with one of the basic packages that they had MoUs with the agencies. I told the lady that I want the best monofocal, even if did not fall into any insurance related package, and would either apply for a reimbursement of the basic costs, incurring the rest myself, or simply forego the insurance facility! I simply did not want to compromise on the lens.
Cut to the waiting lounge: once my pupil was dilated and I was administered all other necessary drops, I was taken into the laser room where the Catalys machine scanned my eye, marked the Capsulohexis (the cut on anterior the lens capsule through which the natural lens is removed and the new IOL rests against; this cut is important because the size and exactness of the shape influence how the lens rests), the cataract was softened, the incisions on the cornea (called side ports)through which the doctor would have access into the lens capsule, were all done. This took about 40-44 seconds.
I was then taken into the ante-room of the OT. I was number three in the queue. Only one 'attender' was permitted to accompany me outside this room to maintain the necessary sanitisation/sterile requirements. Dhananjay waited here, while Riddhi was downstairs, kept company by two of her favourite aunts, Ashwini and Veena, who were kind enough to have dropped by despite their busy schedules. (We had this very abrupt and dramatic separation when Riddhi wasn't permitted to go upstairs with me and I was in the elevator, as the doors closed, and both of us began to cry at this unprepared-for/unanticipated separation!).
As I waited inside, No.1 one went in and was out in 5 minutes, lead by the nursing attendant ; No.2 went in and was out in 5 minutes, also lead outside by a nursing attendant. Dhananjay, then, expected me to be out in the next 5-7 minutes but that wasn't to happen. I, too, was awaiting my turn inside, but was more aware of the situation that caused the delay in my being taken in, so wasn't perturbed; it wasn't the same for Dhananjay, though, who was apparently pacing up and down, nervously, even as 45 minutes elapsed after No.2 had walked out, and there was no sight of me. Poor man! I learnt that an emergency had taken away the doctor who was to do my procedure and hence the delay.
When I was finally taken in, I started talking to the doctor, who was as warm inside the OT as he was cordial outside. We talked about the lens he had chosen, addressing my concerns of good vision in mesopic conditions: " I attend music concerts so will I be able to see well in low light?" etc. "Incidentally, my grandmother and father, too, had undergone the procedure with you. I am the third generation, doctor!" "That goes to show my how old I am", he said. There was a wonderful camaraderie with a few laughs, too. It was all done in 3 1/2 minutes. I thanked the doctor and bade hm goodbye, only after asking him if there was a PCR, to which he responded in the negative.
And then, as was the practise, I was guided out, despite my protests, and I saw Dhananjay there, worried as hell. I waved happily as he came running to me and asked if all was okay and why I was in so long. "Had a nice chat with the doc", I said with a twinkle in my 'new' eye, which escaped his notice, being hidden behind the most horrendous black glasses. "Can't I wear a good RayBan", I had asked. "No, ma'am", was the stern response I got. Serve me right!
I went for my follow up this morning and all was well. Today, Day 1 of my 'recupacation' and I am already bored.
The name of the hospital : Nethradhama Superspeciality Eye Hospital , Jayanagar, Bangalore.
The doctor: Dr. Sri Ganesh.
The doctor: Dr. Sri Ganesh.
Today, my father sang the beautiful ' Kripaya Palaya' by Swati Thirunal in Raga Charukeshi. Somehow, the divinity in my father's voice simply overwhelms me. This one, by Yesudas, is for the man like none other I know:
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