Over the summer, three volunteers from Waveplace spent three months at Campo Alegria teaching children from our elementary school in Buenos Aires how to use the XO computers, furnished by One Laptop per Child. The course involved 22 children learning to create visual stories through computer programming. About a month ago they entered ten of Campo Alegria’s childrens’ stories into a worldwide contest. Judges from seven continents voted to name students from the Campo Alegria program winners of both 1st and 2nd places!

Adam (the full-time staff member at Campo Alegria) writes, “News traveled via word of mouth and soon after the pilot program had ended, the government tracked me down to ask me to head up an intiative to train 3,000 children across Nicaragua on the same technology. Of course I said “Yes” and last week we held our first class for the 40 schools selected… We are in talks with Wavepoint about them coming back down to Nicaragua to work with us on training the schools in depth on specific software for computer programming, math, and writing.”

Check out this video that was created to highlight the Nicaraguan Wavepoint pilot program.

Recently, I’ve had lots of conversations about social media with my non-technology friends. Everything from the ins and outs of Facebook to the purpose of Twitter is being discussed over casuals dinners, at the kids’ soccer games, at the bus stop, and even in the grocery store. This tells me two things.

First, social media has finally arrived. Technophites have claimed for years we were in the “age of social media,” but when my 50-something mom gets a Facebook account, I can finally agree. Enough said.
Second, social media works. No matter how my non-technical sister makes fun of me for using Twitter and updating my status on Facebook, the point is this: she’s listening, and she’s not alone.

Twitter (and the status line on Facebook, which is very similar in concept) is the ultimate in fly-on-the-wall communication. (If you’re not familiar with Twitter, read more here.) You answer the question “what are you doing” in 140 characters are less, and that message (called a “tweet”) is sent to anyone who is “following” your updates.

Many people ask why I tweet. My answer comes from a basic human need for communication. I work from home, without the benefit of annoying co-workers to interact with all day. While I don’t miss the annoying part, I do miss the human contact. I follow the Twitter updates of many designers in the Baltimore/DC area and absolutely love the feeling of being a part of a bigger design team that this provides.

On Facebook, I enjoy keeping in touch with friends, both old and new. Both Facebook and Twitter allow me to participate in a large community of folks… (here’s the beauty of it) when I want to. I can simply sit back and watch the chatter, or I can dive in and comment. It’s like sitting on a couch at a party where everyone is standing and chatting in the middle of the room — you can stand and join in when you want, or just watch if you prefer. But all along, you still get to feel as if you are surrounded by lots of chaotic activity. It’s a wonderful balance for someone like me — someone who feeds off other peoples’ energy, but needs the alone time to produce.

Well, last week the doctor told me to give it two more weeks. At the time, that seemed like an eternity, but only seven days later I’m already seeing a major difference. In fact, last Wednesday (which was two weeks post-op), I noticed I kept my good morning vision until lunch time. Then, on Thursday I kept it until around 3pm. Since then, I’ve had mostly good vision (20/40 or so) with some occasional down time. I hesitated to blog about this sooner, because I was afraid it wouldn’t last… but it has!

So I go back to the eye doctor one week from today. At that point, I will be on week four. Back before I had my vision corrected, a 4-6 week recovery time sounded long, but totally doable. In hindsight, I had no idea what it’d be like living with less-than-perfect vision (and no way to correct it) for 4-6 weeks.

Now that I am *over the hump*, I can finally sit back and relish my new eyes. Almost three weeks without contacts or glasses is still not enough to stop me from thinking I have to take out my contacts at night. I still marvel at waking up and seeing the clock. For someone who was 20/200 for the past 30+ years, even seeing at 20/40 or 20/50 without glasses or contacts is a miracle. What more can I say - it’s absolutely amazing!

After my PRK surgery, I came home at immediately crashed into bed (but not before taping those hideous eye shields into place). About 2 hours later, I woke to the sound of my husband and daughter looking for her soccer cleats and shin guards (they really can’t live without mommy, can they?). But when I opened my eyes, I was greeted with intense pain, particularly in my left eye.

If you’ve ever worn contacts, you know how it feels to have a contact bug you. Now multiply that times 10, and you’ll have an idea as to how I felt. I wanted to rip the contact (bandage) out. I literally could not stop crying - the tears were involuntary, as if my eye was rejecting the damage it had just encountered. (That would be the burning smell I mentioned in the previous post.)

I put in my first set of three drops (steroid drop, antibiotic drop, and painkiller drop, each given 5 minutes apart), but that didn’t help. I took more tylenol and advil, but nothing helped. Finally, at 8:30pm, I called the doctor on call and was told, “you had PRK, that’s painful.” Thanks.

Somehow I made it to 10pm, when I had to put in another set of drops. Then I did my best attempt at sleeping until 7:45am, when my mom came to drive me to my 8:00am follow-up appointment.

I kept my eyes closed the whole ride to the office, with tears continuing to involuntarily stream down my face. The doctor decided to replace the contact bandage in my left eye. In order to do that, they gave me a much stronger numbing eye drop and all was well. They asked me to come back again the next day (Friday) even though they don’t normally see patients again until Saturday.

Back at home, I was able to listen to a little TV, but mostly just rested. I kept myself pumped full of Tylenol PM and Advil, as I tried to sleep. The pain was pretty bad, and I was scared by that because they kept telling me Friday and Saturday would be the worst pain days.

By the time I woke up Friday morning, I actually felt a little better. BUT, I still worried that the pain would come back or get worse. At my 10:40am appointment, I received fabulous news: I had started to heal much more quickly than the average patient, and the “holes” in my cornea were already 80% healed. In other words, the worst was OVER! AMEN! I was beyond thrilled as I walked out of that office.

So for me, the worst days were actually Wednesday night and Thursday. But once I crossed that 80% mark, I really felt no pain at all. By Saturday morning, I felt good enough to go to my daughters’ soccer games before my doctor’s appointment. I wore a hat and dark sunglasses because I was still really sensitive to the UV light. I couldn’t tell which kid was mine in some cases, but hey, I made it!

Sunday, I felt good enough to drive. On Saturday I was able to read the 20/40 line when using both eyes together. It’s not crystal clear, but apparently it was good enough for me to drive.

On Monday I had my 5-day post op appointment, and the contact bandages were removed. Although it felt great to have them out (they had gotten pretty dry), for some reason my vision was worse on Monday. My trip to the grocery store involved me getting really close to all the labels to read prices. I decided to cut my errands short and head home.

Yesterday (Tuesday) was better, and today is a little better still. My left eye is pretty close to 20/20, while my right eye straggles at a double-vision 20/40. The doctor keeps reminding me this is all totally normal, and that I *will* be 20/20 as soon as my eyes are fully healed. My right eye had a stronger prescription, which means the laser had to do more damage to fix it, which means it’ll take longer to heal.

The average healing time for PRK is 4-6 weeks. Before my surgery I thought that sounded way too long to be true, but now I see that it is a very gradual process. There are a lot of steps between 20/40 and 20/20, and it may take a few weeks to get there completely.

It still hasn’t completely sunk in that I am not wearing contacts all day. But at night, when I get ready for bed and then chill out with a book or the remote, I remember. And in the morning when I open my eyes and can instantly see how much longer before I need to get up, I smile.

Wednesday, September 17th was my surgery day. I was scheduled to be at the office by 2:20pm, which meant I had the entire morning to make sure I was caught up on work, laundry, and everything else. But in reality, I counted down the minutes and spent most of the time online reading about other people’s experiences with PRK. I was really ready for that valium! At 1:30 I reminded my husband that we had to leave soon (for the 5 minute drive). I reminded him again in 5-minute intervals until we finally left at 2pm. Whew.

When we arrived at the office, we were informed they were running about 20 minutes behind. Drat. More waiting WITHOUT valium! So I played with my iPhone until they finally called me back, while hubby stayed in the waiting area playing with his (inferior) Blackberry.

The first thing they did was give me a glorious little pill called valium (10mg in case you’re wondering). I had already taken the recommended 600mg of ibuprofen at home. While we waited for the valium to kick in, the doctor asked me if I had any concerns about post-op. I proceeded to share with her my multitude of concerns for about 10 minutes until *wham* all of the sudden I stopped mid-sentence, turned to look toward the sky and pronounced that I had no more concerns. Yup - the valium had kicked in and I was feeling fine. She administered some numbing drops and left to find the surgeon. I sat in the chair with a dumb grin on my face (and twittered that I felt …)

I believe the doctor had to actually hold my arm while we walked to the surgery room, as I was a bit unsteady. The surgeon asked if I could read his name tag or the clock (my answer was a big fat no, as I was about 20/200 pre-op). Then I laid down on a cold “table” in the middle of this big room of machines. One nurse held my hands, while another covered my left eye (they always start with the right eye). The surgeon then placed a wire contraption that reminds me of the egg-holder used to dye Easter eggs over my right eye to hold my eyelid open. Then the surgery began.

Because I was having PRK and not Lasik, the first part involved a 30-second chemical bath to remove a very thin outer layer of my cornea. They all count down the 30 seconds. It’s not painful, but just a bit uncomfortable. Then the surgeon takes some sort of squeegee and wipes away the remnants of the bath.

Note: while all this is happening, you feel a bit like you’re having an out-of-body experience. It seems the surgeon is wiping away something on a window above your face, rather than your actual eyeball!

Next, I’m told to look at a red light inside a scope above my right eye. (This is the laser.) It takes 60 seconds (again, they count it down) to “re-sculpt” your cornea to perfect vision. I didn’t feel anything at all. Really, the only way you know something’s happening is by the smell. Yup, that burning smell is your eye!

At this point, my surgeon asked me a trivia question (I can’t recall the question, but I know I didn’t have the answer). In reality, it was a ruse to try and distract me from the FREEZING cold water they splashed over my eye to finish the process. Nice try. After that a contact bandage (i.e., clear contact lens) was placed over my eye.

The entire process was repeated on my left eye and then they had me sit up. Of course this is the point where the doctor asks me what time it is. Yes, as corny as it sounds, I could read the clock that was a total blur to me just 6 minutes before!

I returned to the first office (otherwise known as the valium room) for a final check of my eyes. Seriously, the entire process was a piece of cake. Had I known the surgery really wasn’t that scary after all, I might have done it a whole lot sooner.

I was told to go home and take a nap until around 7 or 8pm. Then, I had to administer 2 rounds of drops at 8pm and 10pm before going back to sleep for the night. Unfortunately, my night didn’t go as smoothly as that, but you’ll have to wait to hear more until the next installment…