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My transplant didn't work as planned...

Wow! I actually can't believe I'm typing this. All of the hopes and dreams and aspirations I had that this transplant was going to be the gift of sight and I was going to be able to live a visual life again have been shattered.

My specialist is surprised and even disappointed that I have no change in vision. He explained that my eye hasn't fallen into the round shape that is required for sight, it has changed since the transplant 13 months ago, but not enough. Apparently there are two axis' that come into play with the shape of my eye (see picture below). The specialist removed the last three stitches which are on the axis that can help release the tension in my eye and assist it to fall into a more round shape, the remaining stitches are on the other axis and will remain in there for like ever.

The next step is surgery. AGAIN. Can you believe it? I sat there in complete shock. I mean, it's not a big deal in the scheme of life and medical problems, and I've done lots of emotional and mental work on coming to terms with losing my vision, but at the April appointment my specialist was so positive that I'll get a great result that this came as a surprise.

He said that he will see me in five weeks and then the next steps are likely to be surgery, back at the Sydney Eye Hospital, where he'll decide whether he needs to loosen the remaining stitches or to add some new stitches in an effort to get that round shape.

I was meant to talk about my work hours and how I'm coping with my pain but my head totally froze, I couldn't articulate anything and I could feel my poor doctor getting frustrated as he knew this was something I wanted to discuss. You know when you watch those movies and someone is sitting in the doctor's room and they receive some bad medical news and they just stare at the doctor while the room goes silent? Well that was me. I just stared at my doctor and fumbled as I tried to make words.

As part of my delirium I agreed to keeping my current working hours at 20 hours per week. All things were flashing through my head like 'more surgery = more leave and means I better start saving now to be able to afford it as I'll be on half pay or no pay', 'more surgery = going to sydney and being in hospital on my own again, my own again', 'am I being selfish by asking to work less hours so that I'm not in so much pain? should I just continue this life of 2-3 hours of pain after 5 hours of work?', 'I'm back in five weeks so maybe I just continue til then'... and before I knew it, the letter was dictated and I was signed up for 20 hours per week for the next four months.

When I woke up this morning I realised that wasn't my smartest move and realistically I have been living this life of pain for 13 months and why am I forcing myself to continue this struggle? Money is important, work in important, but my physical and mental health should be more important. So I wrote an email to my doctor explaining that I was in a state of shock yesterday and I wasn't able to have a proper conversation about my work hours and asked if he could reduce them to 18 hours per week. I then called and discussed my situation with the receptionist and she's going to pose the idea to him.

I think 18 hours are a happy medium. It will be a noticable pay reduction, but I'll still be able to afford my basic necessities, and half an hour less each day will hopefully be the difference in the hours of pain I have after work.

To be continued ...

I am at peace with what is ...

Miss Nat

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