Chris Writing Anything

Have you ever had surgery? What for?

Hospitals…I hate ‘em! Yet, sometimes, because of physical ailments, one can’t avoid them. And thinking of that, I’ll cut straight to today’s topic: surgeries. Yes, I’ve had more than one, but, in order to avoid a long and boring post, and because it’s by far the most bizarre injury I’ve ever incurred, I’ll talk about the instance that affects me the greatest.

First, let me begin with, just because I feel they’re of note, and because I feel they’re worth a mention, a few minor procedures. When I was a child, I had to be stitched up a couple of times…really no biggie. As another of my childhood woes, I’ve had my tonsils removed. And finally, rounding out boyhood, I had a break out of planters warts, which were all over the soles of my feet, and they were extracted by a sharp blade.

But the surgery I remember most, actually, I don’t remember it at all, being that I was under anesthesia, anyways, I had my tear duct replaced.

“Why would you have your tear duct replaced?” I hear you ask. And the answer is simple. I tore it to shreds.

Now, I can hear the next question, “How exactly do you destroy a tear duct?”

That answer is a little more complicated. I’ll start off with this, if you’re stuck in Alaska, you might want to try downhill skiing. That is, and you have to watch the thermometer, if you can bear the cold.

One night, while the weather was fairly warm, well, warm for Alaska, anyways, I was racing down a hill. While doing so, I caught sight of a ramp made from snow. My confidence was high, and my sense of adventure was sparked, so I tried it…

I literally did three back flips, landed on my back and I was knocked unconscious. My buddy discovered my bloodied, motionless (but living) body face up in the snow.

When I came to, I realized I was bleeding profusely from my eye socket. I think a ski pole, which barely missed my eyeball, ripped the skin right between my nose and eye. My face was a bloody mess. Yes, it was all fun and games until somebody poked an eye out.

But back to the story….

Since there was no hospital on Eilson Air Force Base, we made the half hour drive to Fort Wainright. At the Army hospital, as I endured a short but irritating stay, they determined there was nothing they could do for me. I guess my injury was unique. And I was already tired of the question, “How did you hurt your eye while skiing?”

So…

For some reason, they strapped me to a gurney, threw me in an ambulance and hurried me to the civilian medical facility in Fairbanks. There, after laying me on a hospital bed, applying an anesthetic to numb the flesh and applying a few sutures, the ophthalmologist had decided he had no idea what he was doing. I believe his exact words, and he had repeated them frequently, were, “I don’t know where this goes…”

Finally, the poor dude threw in the towel, telling me, “I’m going to tell them to send you to Madigan. I’ll have them prepare the Medevac.”

I was dumbfounded, “So, you’re sending me to Anchorage?”

“No, Seattle.”

My thoughts…’That’s over a thousand miles away. That’s going to be a long flight.’

What was worse, besides the local anaesthetic permanently damaging my vision…yeah, I had perfect eyesight before the incident, but, as I was saying, not only would it be a long flight, but there would be full night’s layover in Anchorage.

When I finally made it to Seattle, I was a specimen for medical interns. Groups of young army med students would intently study my shredded eye socket, and the senior doctor, an officer of notable rank, would explain the procedure I was about to undergo.

In the meantime, while in my room, I found a true-life spy novel to read.

When the moment of the surgery arrived, it happened lightening fast. Not really. Actually, it took several hours. I guess reconstructing a tear duct, which was what the doctors had to do, takes a while.

In any event, I remember counting down for the anesthesiologist, reaching four, and then, much to my surprise, like it was the next instant, I was in the post-op room.

After the surgery ,and for a long time, the drainage in that particular eye was horrible. When the conditions were right, I’d cry for no reason. People often looked at me, especially when I was wiping tears from my face, with a confused expression. I’d have to explain that I damaged my eye while skiing. For some reason, that equally confused them.

Anyways, it’s hard for me to believe, mainly because I remember the Seattle hospital vividly, that this incident occurred over twenty five years ago. How’s my tear duct? There’s water on my lower lid, speaking of right now, and I’ll have to wipe it away, but I’m not crying.

Have an excellent day!