Handling Slow Healing

How do you handle a healing process that’s slower than you’d like?

Or a growth process that you thought would be linear, only to find out it looks more like the ups and downs of a roller coaster?

I experienced both in a small way with my recent eye surgery. I had PRK ( ) performed, which is very similar to LASIK, in mid-August.

I had anticipated it taking some time for my eyes to recover post-surgery, but I didn’t think it would involve a lot of pain or too many blurry days. My surgeon and the nurse who walked me through the process during my consultation both said I’d likely have a couple blurry days the week after surgery, and I took that to mean the rest of the time would be pretty clear.

Nope.

The day of surgery (a Thursday), I had my mom take me to and from the clinic since they were giving me painkillers. Other than being tired, I felt pretty good after my surgery. It went fast, and they said everything looked good. So we started out on a good foot!

The day after surgery was pretty clear. I went for a couple walks with my neighbor, who was quite surprised that I was up and around and wanting to go for a sunny walk outside. I even drove myself the 15 minutes to and from my follow-up eye doctor appointment!

But the next day things took a turn. I woke up on Saturday with a headache, my eyes hurt, and they were incredibly puffy— to the point where I could barely keep them open for more than a few seconds at a time and found it impossible to focus my vision on anything. I called my doctor, and she said I could put a cold compress on to get the swelling down, but that it would also just take some time. That whole day was just painful. I couldn’t do anything— I couldn’t keep my eyes open long enough to read, watch tv, or even make any real food. I ended up listening to the tv and sleeping most of the day. It was incredibly boring in addition to being painful.

The following couple of days got better incrementally until I didn’t have any more pain, and my eye puffiness went down by the next day. But the blurriness continued. I didn’t go to work, and it was nice to have the time to rest, but I still couldn’t watch tv very well (trying to focus on the blurry picture gave me a headache), and I couldn’t read a book until about Wednesday, either. If you know me at all, you know how painful it was for me emotionally to not be able to read for several days.

I tried to keep up with my work emails while I was out, but looking at a computer was really difficult. The letters were all blurry, and I kept misspelling words because I couldn’t see the letters on the screen. I did about an hour a day, and it depleted me of all my energy for a couple of hours afterward. Every day I messaged my boss saying, “maybe tomorrow I can come back.” It felt like I kept letting my team down, even though they were incredibly supportive and understanding.

I had all these hopes for what getting my vision corrected was going to look like— I’d be at home for the weekend as my vision cleared up and eyes healed, but then I’d be back to work by Monday, even if things were a little blurry here and there, I’d be able to do basically everything I normally would by the next week.

And I just wasn’t. And it was hard. And I couldn’t do anything about it.

I had my husband drive me to the grocery store because I didn’t feel safe driving myself. I had him then drive me to work on Thursday when I finally thought I could handle going back, and he had to pick me up, too. He drove me again on Friday, and I asked my mom to pick me up and take me to my two appointments that afternoon because I didn’t think I could handle driving through the construction zones without clear vision. It was a really humbling experience for me.

At my one-week follow-up appointment, the doctor removed the “bandage contact lenses” I had from the surgery. Once again, I thought she had told me previously that my vision would get better after those were removed. So I was expecting to feel like going from a foggy day outside to the clear air inside. But nothing seemed to change.

My vision did continue to get better over the next few days, and now it’s mostly clear, though it was one of those two steps forward, one step back kind of things. I’d have a clear morning only to have a blurry afternoon, or a clear few hours and a blurry half hour before things cleared up again. It wasn’t entirely predictable, which made it hard to work around. And still, if I look at my computer for too long, things far away get a bit fuzzy. And sometimes things in the periphery are pretty blurry, too. I’m grateful that I can do my work, drive, read, watch tv, and live my everyday life again, and I look forward to having fully clear vision again one day soon!

But I’m waiting on something I can’t control. I can only bide my time and use all my eye drops. And go in for check-ups.

Waiting is hard. Non-linear healing is hard.

I wanted to control the speed and process of my healing. I wanted it to be fast. I wanted it to make sense. But it just didn’t.

What I’ve learned from all of this is to take a breath. To pray for patience to take things one day at a time. To focus on what I can do, even if it’s just listening to an audiobook and lying on the couch all day.

I took comfort in the words from people who had been through the same (or similar) process before me— my mom, mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and one of my coworkers all told me about their experiences with LASIK and PRK, and it helped to hear how they all had unique stories. It helped, too, to be in regular contact with an expert— my eye doctor. She was such a fierce cheerleader, encouraging me that my eyes were healing well and on track to have great vision once they finally healed, even when I didn’t think things were moving forward much at all. When you don’t have much hope yourself, it really helps to have someone in your corner who’s lifting you back up. I encourage you to find someone who can fill that role for you. I’m happy to do it from afar, but I can’t personalize it to your specific situation. With that said, I do want to say this:

Tomorrow is a brand new day.

You can choose to worry only about today.

Do only what you can do; don’t worry about what you wish you were able to do.

Let others help where they can. Ask for help if it’s not offered outright.

Let people know how you’re really doing; you’re not doing anyone (least of all yourself) a favor by sugarcoating things.

Take some time to focus on the positive and do something that makes you feel good, no matter how small.