Bright Lights, Blurry Days: 3-Days Into My Recovery After Cataract Surgery
Double Cataract Surgery: Not Quite the Breeze I Expected
by Lisa Kiely
I thought this was going to be a breeze.
Honestly, I did. I’m 63, healthy, active, and spend my days traveling, walking dogs, rushing through airports, and recently I was literally walking a runway in San Miguel. When I found out I needed cataract surgery—on both eyes—I figured I’d be in and out, back to hiking the next day. Everyone I talked to who had one eye done said it was painless, easy, and life-changing.
Well, spoiler alert: I underestimated the impact it would have—particularly the anesthesia.
Let’s start at the top. I arrived just a few minutes before my scheduled appointment. Daniel, my nurse, came out to get me right on time, and we immediately hit it off with that light, playful banter that instantly put me at ease. Barbara and Candice, who’d be assisting my surgeon, introduced themselves and made me feel like I was about to be taken care of by a dream team. And I was.
Then I met with the anesthesiologist (I told her my body is weird with meds—and it is). I don’t tolerate alcohol well, and my reactions to medication are inconsistent. But I was still in the “this’ll be easy” mindset.
Last but not least, Dr. Namita came in to talk about the lens options. I had originally requested that both eyes be set for near vision—because I read, write, paint, sew and work close-up so much. But she suggested a more balanced approach: dominant (right) eye for distance, left eye for reading. After listening to her thoughtful explanation, I trusted her and agreed.
I looked at the clock on the way into surgery—just before noon. I remember bits and pieces: colorful, swirling lights in my left eye that looked like a lava lamp, the comforting sound of cheerful chatter among the surgical team, and a deep feeling of being safe.
When I came out, it wasn’t even 1:15 PM.
Claire, my daughter, had waited for me. She had a snack bag ready—an apple, almonds, and lots of water (the first food I’d had since midnight). She drove us home as I told her what I could remember, which honestly wasn’t much. My eyes were blurry and stung a bit, but I wasn’t phased. I was too excited that it was done.
When we got home, my son Evan tag-teamed in, managing my drops every 4 hours with precision. We’d planned to watch reruns together, but I fell asleep after every round of drops. This repeated all evening and all through the night. The only real disruption was me waking up to get the drops and then falling back asleep—like I had a remote-controlled power-down button.
I didn’t expect to be that tired.
I also didn’t expect to be this light-sensitive or to need so much stillness. I’m used to walking, doing strength training, hiking, and leading Zoom fitness classes most days. I’m realizing my “normal” may be more than most of my peers. I think most people probably don’t think they can walk five miles the day after surgery. But I did. Silly me.
The next morning, I woke up thinking I was back to 100%. I wasn’t. Forty-five minutes later, I was back asleep. The anesthesia was slowing me down.
At my follow-up appointment, I was told everything looked great. My right eye was already 20/20. The left, which had been the more swollen and cloudy one, was 20/30 and still improving. Best part? I’ll likely never need this surgery again—and might not even need glasses. Bad part? I was told my response to the anesthesia used was very rare but my drag, delay and malice very real. I had planned to meet a new friend for dinner and had to cancel because I simply could not stay awake and my mind wasn’t moving quickly enough to have an interesting and or delightful conversation.
Now, on day three, I’m clearer. The blurriness is fading. The scratchiness is gone. But my eyes are still sensitive to light, and I’m still more tired than expected. Guess I’ll leave my calendar open for the next week.
So, here’s what I wish I had known/planned for:
What I Learned (and What I Want You to Know):
Anesthesia hits everyone differently—especially if you’re sensitive to meds like I am.
Expect fatigue. Like, real fatigue. Build in 7-10 days of full rest.
Your eyes will be light-sensitive. Sunglasses help, but plan to be indoors, in soft lighting, for a few days.
Plan your support. I had my daughter and son helping me, and that was a huge gift. Don’t try to go it alone.
If you’re very active, prepare to scale back. Your recovery might not be the same as someone less physically engaged in daily life.
I’m grateful for my team, my body’s healing abilities, and the fact that soon I’ll be seeing the world more clearly—literally.
But I’m also grateful for rest. For quiet. For knowing that healing doesn’t always follow the timeline we expect.
If you’re considering cataract surgery—especially both eyes at once—listen to your doctor, plan for rest, and give yourself grace. Your eyes—and your body—will thank you.
And, it’s WORTH it!
—
Lisa Kiely
www.LisaKiely.com
63 years strong | Traveling Light | Moving More Than Most
