Aventures in Modern Medicine -- Chapter Eight

Or nine or six or something... I guess it depends on who's counting.

A week or two ago, I noticed that the number of "floaters" in my vision (that is, those little dark spots that show up and eventually drift out of view) seemed to have increased and that I was seeing bright flashes of light 'way off to the left in my field of view. Also, a light gray film was showing up and disappearing from time to time. Finally, I kept seeing a black "something" at the left edge of my vision that seemed to fly past me quickly. Like a bird or a bat. But there was never anything "real" to see when I turned my eyes to look directly at where the "something" had gone.

So I've added a ophthalmologist to my battery of medical specialists. Nice guy. Seems quite competent.

During my first visit, I got the obligatory drops that made my pupils dialate to the size of quarters, an impressive list of questions about my vision, and a thorough examination of the insides of my eyeballs. The eye doc dictated his findings to an assistant as he went through the process. (Never seen that before! Had no idea what he was talking about.)

Afterwards, the doc had me watch a DVD about floaters and a variety of retinal issues (which was interesting to watch through my blurry eyesight -- thanks to the aforementioned eyedrops!). He seemed to feel that I was quite smart in coming to him as soon as these symptoms showed up -- that they could be signs of something serious. Then he had me make an appointment for a week later. To see if there were any changes.

During this second visit (with more eyedrops, of course), the doc said he saw a small tear (as in dislocation rather than lachrymosity) in the retina of my left eye. Small and located well off to the side. But something that should be fixed before it got any larger.

Having watched the aforementioned DVD, I knew that the process involved tack welding the dislodged portion of the retina back in place with a laser. And I expected him to tell me to make an appointment to have the procedure done. But no! He was ready to do the deed then and there. And who was I to argue?

So I got moved to another examination room and received yet another type of eyedrop. And waited for some time (Who can tell time when waiting for the doctor in an examination room? Why haven't more playwrights done dramas and/or comedies about people stuck in a medical examination room? Samuel Beckett, where are you when we need you?) for the doc to show up.

He turned the lights way down low and put the most amazing contraption around his head. Looked something like a dressed-up version of that colander thingy from Back to the Future.

He told me that he would be hitting the area with twenty or so laser shots. In fact, it seemed like a lot more than that...

You do, of course need to keep your eyes wide open for this sort of thing. And for goodness sakes, keep looking at exactly the same spot on the ceiling that the doc says to look at!! If you move your eye and the laser shot hits someplace it wasn't supposed to...

The laser produces a bright green "image" when it hits. I think it announces the death of the rods and cones in the area that the laser hits, but I'm not sure about that.

Afterwards, my left eye didn't work at all for 5 or 10 minutes, but the doc said that was perfectly normal. I considered this an interesting use of the word "normal," but didn't say anything. When my eye returned to service, everything looked very purple. I guess the green sensors were overloaded and had decided to take a break. In 20 minutes, my vision was back to normal -- in the usual sense of the word "normal." Floaters and all.

In answering my questions about this procedure, the doc informed me that the torn retina probably had nothing to do with the symptoms that had brought me to his office, but that the two test procedures he had prescribed for me at the local hospital should shed some light on why these symptoms had shown up.

I had the first procedure today: a carotid ultrasound. The doc thinks the blood flow to my left eye may be inadequate or interrupted from time to time. And since the left side of my neck is the one that had the major surgery last year, that might make sense.

The other procedure happens on Tuesday morning. It's an echocardiogram. I hope to be able to explain what that means by Tuesday afternoon.

I feel caught between two very different places on all this. On one hand, I continue to feel that I'm getting excellent treatment from wonderfully competent medical personnel. On the other hand, I'm getting tired of my body producing new things from them to work on. I don't see that any of these issues is directly related to any others -- which is good news and bad news all at once. Which I think you can understand without explanation...

Oh yeah! Nearly forgot to mention! The doc says that there are two things I need to avoid doing for the next ten days to two weeks. He says "Don't lift anything heavy," and "Don't bend over." Because either of these activities would put additional pressure on the eyes and possibly dislodge the retinal fix. (Now, why would a juggler ever want to -- or have to -- bend over?)

So I try to take all of this in good humor, being deeply grateful for my fundamentally good health and great support from family, friends, medical professionals, and -- to be sure -- readers of this blog. Who by and large fit into one of the aforementioned categories.

I can see to write this. You can see to read this. There is much to be grateful for.