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Published: August 30th 2014
“So you are telling me that you can’t remove it?” She shook her head firmly, a definite no.
“Really?” I flipped over my eyelid so that we could both look at the large calcification that had literally popped up overnight and was ripping my cornea to shreds. “What am I supposed to do then?”
“Well,” said the GP who wasn't much older than me and whom I quietly suspected was rushing to finish her clinical requirements, “we could get you an appointment with an eye specialist who can remove it for you.”
I was not sure... not only did that sound like a lengthy process, but it felt like there was a thousand needles stabbing themselves into my eyeball every time I moved; I was ready to rip out my eye. “How long is that going to take?”
“Well, I could refer you as an emergency and we could probably have the specialist see you in a couple of
weeks.” She looked down and wrote something in my file.
“Yeah, that’s not going to work.”
She looked up, “why not?”
“Well... I am leaving the country in six days.”
“Oh,” she smiled, “when are you going to be back?”
“A year.”
Her smile vanished. “Of all the bad luck... you are right, that is not going to work.”
No kidding. I could see this was going nowhere and, in that moment, knew with stark certainty that I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. Over the course of my life, I have become quite adept at performing minor surgical operations on myself, so I was no stranger to digging things out of my body. This task, however, was a little trickier as it was so close to my eye. I was going to have to employ the greatest amount of care. I also silently resolved to not tell Sean about my plan to dig around in the inner part of my eyelid with sharp pointy objects, as he already advised me against prodding in such a sensitive area.
“Alright, so perhaps you should prescribe me some antibiotic ointment?” If during my procedure, things went really awry, then at least I could try to keep the damage from getting infected.
“Sure,” the GP smiled at me. “What type of ointment do you want?”
“Erythromycin will do.”
Happy to see me and my completely bloodshot eye off, the young GP handed me my prescription and off I went.
I got home, checked to make sure that Sean wasn't around and prepared my operating room in the clean confines of our bathroom.
I pulled out a sewing needle, a lighter, a potato wrapped in paper towel and my newly acquired antibiotic ointment. Just for good measure, I also downed a ton of homeopathic Silica. Homeopathic Silica is often prescribed to push foreign objects to the surface, but I was unsure if it would consider a calcified rock under my eyelid a foreign object.
I know my eye certainly considered it foreign. The pain was so bad that I literally wanted to scream or cry or throw something or claw at my eye until it was just a bloody mess on my face.
Instead of doing any of the above, I decided to begin my operation in a conservative fashion. On the Internet, it said to start with applying heat to hopefully soften the chunk. I didn't have a hot compress, so after starting a fire by overheating a cloth wrapped in rice, I heated up a potato in the microwave and wrapped it in paper towel and stuck it over my eye. After thirty minutes, it hadn't done much and upon consulting the internet for the next step, it suggested consulting a medical professional.
Been there, done that, so I continued with what I felt to be the most logical step. I disinfected the sewing needle with the lighter, applying a bit of the antibiotic ointment to the tip, took a deep breath, and began digging at the underside of my eyelid. I was very surprised to notice that when I stabbed the calcification, I couldn't feel anything. I took this as a hopeful sign that I wasn't damaging too much good tissue.
After two careful hours of digging (and Sean not walking in I should add) it literally popped out as a giant chunk. I controlled my excitement long enough to guide it to the edge of my eyelid and when I blinked my eye, it fell into the sink with a satisfying “clink”.
Holding it between my fingers, I couldn't believe how big it was; it was as hard and the same size as a small pebble. I placed it on top of my face cream container for safe keeping so I could triumphantly show Sean later. How had my body managed to make such a strange thing?
No matter how it came to be, it was out now. Although it may seem to have been a small victory, the instant relief was glorious.
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Cheri
non-member comment
Very lucky!
So my first reaction? "Oh my god! Are you nuts? You should have go pen to emerg and an on-call ophthalmologist could have taken it out!!" My second reaction? "Wow, you can learn how to do anything on the internet- good for you!" I'm glad you are ok and that you're eye is on the mend.