Dr. Hanna Shammas in front of his Shammas Eye Medical Center in Lynnwood. (Photo by Samir Twair)
By Pat McDonnell Twair
Contributing Editor
In the mid 1990s, I wrote an article about ophthalmologist Dr. Hanna Shammas’ latest scholarly tome dealing with cataract surgery.
At the time, I told him I was so glad I knew him because when the time came, I was assured I’d be putting my precious eyesight into the best of all possible hands.
I hoped that time would never come because after the Big C, cataracts were the health disaster I most feared. When I was in the eighth grade, I overheard relatives whispering about the cataract surgery my maternal grandmother was going to undergo. After the operation, she eventually went blind. Fifteen years later, my grandfather slowly lost his eyesight after cataract surgery.
Needless to say, I wasn’t a happy puppy when I started to see pinwheels and halos revolving around street lights at night. An eye checkup in December 2007 proved I had the onset of cataracts.
I denied the symptoms for one year. Whenever we went to the movies, I couldn’t see once we entered a darkened theater. Either we had to arrive before the intermission or call for an usher to help me into an empty seat while my husband tried to balance me from stumbling.
As for walking downstairs without holding onto a railing, you might as well have asked me to balance on a tight rope between two high rise towers. Driving a car was out of the question.
Dr. Hanna Shammas uses cutting edge equipment for examing the eyes of his patients. (Photo by Samir Twair)
At the January 2009 Doo Dah Parade, I knew it was time to consult Shammas when sunlight blinded me from observing the zany parade participants on their outrageous floats. It is a very scary sensation to be unable to distinguish people or objects in front of you. Actually, it was more frightening than the prospect of eye surgery.
I bit the bullet and we made an appointment with Dr. Shammas at his Lynnwood medical center. An eye examination revealed my eyesight had deteriorated drastically over the past year. Shammas informed me only one eye is operated on at a time. He asked which one I wanted him to do first. I shrugged my shoulders and he said, “Okay, let’s take care of the right eye on Feb. 2.”
For any of you anticipating cataract surgery, and perhaps dreading the unknown as much as I was, here’s what to expect.
Once the surgery date is set, the potential patient goes through an eye examination and an interview with a nurse to check on one’s health, allergies and blood pressure. A specialist takes measurements of both eyes and patients of Shammas receive a little black bag containing pre-op instructions and three different vials of eye drops.
The Shammas Eye Medical Center in Lynnwood is a mini-hospital with two surgical theaters and 10 exam rooms equipped with the latest high-tech equipment.
“It is critically necessary to have the perfect, most precise, instruments,” explained the world-renowned ophthalmologist. “That’s why I never would operate elsewhere. I performed surgery on my own mother in this facility. I rely on my machines and on my staff, most of my nurses have been with me for the past 20 years.”
Cataract surgery is performed under a microscope using a machine calibrated on 1/10th of a centimeter.
“When I make an incision, it must be 2.4 millimeters and not 2.5 millimeters,” he said.
It is this microscopic expertise that brings Dr. Shammas invitations to demonstrate his skills from medical institutions all over the world. He has perfected a technique in small incision surgery that makes for a super-fast recovery. He defines a cataract as the lens of the eye that has become cloudy and fails to focus light rays on the retina.
What are cataracts?
“People develop them at much younger ages than in the past,” Dr. Shammas explained. “Cataracts were associated with old age, but now I see people in their forties who must have them removed. I attribute this trend to staring at a computer screen all day and/or driving regularly for extended periods into the sun.”
He went on to explain that 35 years ago, the cataract was removed through a large incision. Recovery took as long as three months and required the patient to avoid strenuous activity.
“Usually the patient thereafter had to wear thick spectacles, often described as Coke bottle glasses,” he said. “In the mid-1970s, British doctors perfected a lens implant and revolutionized cataract surgery.”
After the pre-op eye examination, Dr. Shammas broke the news I was one of his rare patients whose iris is off center and that it also has atrophied.
Translated, this meant I was not a candidate for the more expensive bi-focal lens (Medicare patients are obliged to pay the difference) and, he said, he would have to “dig deeper” to perform the surgery.
These were grim facts I didn’t want to hear or think about, but neither could I contemplate remaining semi-blind because of my fear of eye surgery. I’m revealing these complications because, in spite of them, the operations were painless… almost. I will admit to some discomfort after the first surgery.
Three days prior to surgery, the patient must put drops into the pre-op eye three times a day. No makeup is permissible and one enters the operating room in a surgical gown and cap covering the hair. More and more drops are put into the eye.
As I was wheeled into the operating room, I could hear the gurney I was laying on shake, rattle and roll with my uncontrollable tremors of fear. Dr. Shammas peered over me, told me to relax. The next thing I knew I was entering post-op.
What happened while I was in that dreamy state staring into a bright light was that the cloudy lens was emulsified by high frequency ultrasound and a plastic implant was inserted.
A complimentary pair of wrap-around goggles was put onto my face, the right eye covered by a patch. Wheelchair-bound, I was delivered to husband, Samir. The nurse instructed him I was not to bend over or lift heavy objects for one week and that included cooking or washing dishes.
A few hours after we arrived home, I experienced the specialized Shammas TLC. A clinic staffer phoned to ask how I was doing. Twenty-four hours later, the patch was removed and the regimen of eye drops three times a day began for one week.
My fears of cataract surgery were unwarranted. I have regained much of my balance, colors are brighter and I can watch TV without glasses, go to movie theaters and walk in bright sunlight or at night without cowering on my husband’s arm in a sightless state.
Inasmuch as my off-kilter pupil problem disqualified me for bifocal lenses, I must wear glasses to read or work at the computer. I refuse to be an old fogey and wear glasses hanging on a chain from my neck. The solution is a separate pair of spectacles at the computer, in the kitchen (to read recipes) and in my purse to read menus or stage programs.
It is miraculous to regain one’s sight.
Eye-opening facts on the Lebanese surgeon
Eye opening facts on the Lebanese surgeon
A native of Tripoli, Lebanon, Dr. Shammas completed a three-year residency on ophthalmology at the American University of Beirut Medical Center before launching his advanced fellowship at the University of Iowa in 1975.
Ironically, it wasn’t until he arrived on the Iowa campus that he met a fellow AUB Medical School graduate, Najwa Mirhij, who was completing her residency and fellowship in pediatric infectious diseases.
“It was love at first sight,” he says with a smile. “We were married in 1976.”
The midwestern winters were too severe for the Lebanese newlyweds. In 1977, they visited the bride’s relatives in southern California and, as luck would have it, a job offer came from Dr. Fredrick Milkie whose eye clinic was adjacent to St. Francis Hospital in Lynnwood.
In 1997, when Milkie retired, Shammas became the principal surgeon at the center. The following year, he opened a clinic in Downey and in 2001, he started another clinic in La Habra. Eye ailments other than cataracts are handled by two full-time ophthalmologists and three part-time associates who rotate to the three locations. At present, 50 staffers are employed by his corporation.
The Shammases are parents of three daughters, Maya, an ophthalmologist, Rania, a graduate of Columbia University Medical School, and Lina, who is in medical school at Midwestern University in Phoenix, AZ.
The proud father states that family has always come first to him and his wife who has a full-time practice in pediatrics in Burbank.
“No matter what professional obligation might come up, we made it a point as the girls grew up that we would have dinner at 5:30 p.m. with them. What’s more, Najwa always managed to set her patient schedule so she personally drove the girls to their music, sports and ballet lessons.
Ties with Lebanon remain strong and in 2004, Shammas received the Cedars Medal and Award from Lebanon’s President Emile Lahoud. He also serves on the board of trustees of the Lebanese American University.
Closer to home, Shammas is chairman of the board of the Lebanese American Foundation’s House of Lebanon project. He also is a clinical professor of ophthalmology at the University of Southern California.
Published in The Independent Monitor September 2009 issue.
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