March 28, 2013:
Some pain, very crusty and swollen and serious pink eye. But I'm having so much fun with the new view I don't really care. The depth comes and goes, but when it's there it's quite amazing. A simple piece of bread now has a remarkable landscape. My arm reaching out from my shoulder seems to go on and on, like a suspension bridge cable. I was giddy making Lyra's lunch because the folds of ham are so beautiful.
Looking out the window, I have much more of an impression of the depth of space beyond - the window is separate from the next house in a way it wasn't before. It's not a revolutionary change, but evolutionary - I could sense depth before through the various "secondary cues" (perspective, occlusion, etc.), but I just have much more information now. But with that comes some very overwhelming feelings - pouring coffee was challenging. My brain is telling my body to move more slowly. I'm sure this will pass. I have to keep reminding myself this is real. Everything just has much more of a sense of volume and position in the world. It is especially prominent with movement, so Lyra tearing around the house is even more awesome to watch than ever.
Then there's the double vision - I still have a bit of it, but there is no more conflict between my eyes the way there used to be. The view is just more peaceful. With some luck, within two weeks I will not have that sensation either, and I can already perceive a single consistent view most of the time, whereas before my two eyes overlapped in a way that created tension and exhaustion in my brain.
It made me tear up this morning when Eliza looked at me and said "yeah, you're definitely looking at me". That feedback was immensely powerful for me. I feel different looking out at the world, knowing my eyes are not askew. That in itself has had a grounding experience on my mind. My mind is quieter.
Most peoples' experience with medicine is because something has broken or gone wrong and there is a struggle to get back to normal. I feel very lucky and privileged to be able to go into a hospital and come out with something actually IMPROVED. Having come to terms of acceptance with my lazy eye years ago, all of this strikes me as such a remarkable gift, and I do feel like a sea change in my life has occurred. Plus this just feels like the beginning.
Ok, sorry for the screed and thank you if you read this far. I am off to go giggle while opening and closing a cabinet.