How I Finally Saw Clearly Again

Used with permission from the perspective of a highly myopic woman who had vitrectomy for floaters after cataract surgery. Some details changed to protect patient identity.

I never thought I’d be the kind of person who would struggle to see after finally getting my cataracts removed. At 72, I had lived most of my life with extreme nearsightedness—so strong that my glasses looked like magnifying lenses from a science experiment. When I had cataract surgery six months ago, I expected a visual rebirth. Everyone I knew raved about colors becoming more vivid, text becoming sharper, and the sheer joy of seeing again. For me, it started out that way… but then came the floaters.

It began subtly—little wisps, like someone had smudged my vision with a dirty paintbrush. At first, I assumed they were just remnants from the surgery, something my eyes would get used to. But they grew. Grew darker, denser, more mobile. At times they looked like cobwebs or clumps of thread. By month three post-op, I was swatting at imaginary bugs in the air. Reading became frustrating. My knitting needles blurred into the threads. And the worst part? I no longer felt safe driving.

I tried to ignore it. I kept telling myself, “You’re lucky to have gotten rid of the cataracts—this is small in comparison.” But it wasn’t small. I started avoiding outings. I’d skip my book club because I couldn’t follow the lines on the page. I stopped going to the grocery store unless I absolutely had to. My world was dimming again, not from clouded lenses, but from these floaters that danced constantly in my field of vision. It was like trying to live life through a fogged-up window.

My first visit to an ophthalmologist for the floaters ended in dismissal. He told me, gently, that floaters are normal—especially after cataract surgery—and I’d “get used to them.” I left feeling like a hypochondriac. But I knew something wasn’t right. These weren’t mild annoyances—they were interfering with my life. I kept searching.

The second doctor was even more discouraging. She said surgery to remove floaters was too risky, especially “at my age.” That word—“risky”—sat in my chest like a stone. Was it risky to want to read again? To want to look out my window and see the trees without blobs in the way? I didn’t want to accept a decline in quality of life as my “normal.”

One day, in my frustration, I performed a frenzied Google search. I finally discovered Dr. Tara McCannel who treats patients with floaters at UCLA. I felt a jolt of hope I hadn’t felt in months.

I made the appointment. Her office staff were professional. Dr. McCannel listened. Really listened. She didn’t wave me off or call it normal aging. She examined both eyes in detail, performed special imaging, and talked me through the anatomy of what was going on. My floaters weren’t just harmless specks—they were dense vitreous opacities directly in the line of sight. “No wonder you can’t function,” she said. That moment was deeply validating.

She recommended surgery—a vitrectomy—to remove the floaters. For the first time, someone was telling me I had a solution. She explained the risks, the benefits, and what recovery would look like. It wasn’t brushed off, nor was it rushed. I left with a clear plan and a heart full of hope. I scheduled surgery for my right eye first.

The recovery was smooth. Within days, I realized I could see without the haze. I could read labels. I could walk outside without that sense of blurred anxiety. The difference was nothing short of astonishing. A few weeks later, I did the left eye too. And now? I feel like I got my life back.

I’m sharing this because I know there are others like me—people who have been told to just tolerate the decline. You don’t have to. Don’t settle. Finding Dr. McCannel and getting my floaters removed changed everything. I feel younger, more confident, and most importantly, like I’m not fading away. I’ve rejoined the world. And it’s clear and beautiful.