Too much ambient light
An afternoon in ophthalmo. Nothing quite like it. After all, the alternative is so much worse.
I have a problem with intra-ocular pressures. Tag my file with the word glaucoma, stick some needles in, tickle me with a laser. All good. After all, I’m past the point of no return. After several surgical interventions, I’m under control. Slightly medicated. But, just to be sure, there are control visits. Today, as an instance.
I arrived, just after lunch, had my plastic hospital card replaced (out of date) and then headed up to the common waiting room for the start of quiet time. Lots of people around, because we have a regional clinic that serves a population approaching a million or more. I go when they call. No arguments.
First session: a visual field test. Imagine looking into a large metal globe with one eye covered. Pirate style. On cue, I stop blinking and fixate on a small light. Then, each time that I see another light, somewhere in the firmament, I click a button. Medical version of a video game, with no high score board. The technician does print out a result graph, based on four quadrants. I wish I had a do-over.
Back to wait and listen to the stories around me. The crowd is older, so this approaches ethnology. And then, another call, to another room. Given that most of the clients have less than optimal vision, the door numbers are very large. This time, I sat in a comfortable chair and received some drops in my eyes. Might be atropine. Might not be. I’m not a biochemist. The reason: to induce mydriasis. That will be my new word for today, in the absence of anything better. The drops also numb the surface of my eye, to allow pressure tests. Yes, it involves touching…
Next station, a visit with my actual doctor. Always good to touch base, renew prescriptions, try to chitchat while my head is immobilized in a vise. Bright lights and more touching. I pretend to enjoy it.
Station four. Some delay here, as the technician was MIA. I did have my complete medical file to peruse. What did I learn? Well, doctors deserve their reputation for poor penmanship. The file also appeared to be written in a foreign language. Result? I didn’t learn anything other than my name and telephone number. Take that, Wikileaks! The technician finally arrived, and I had some disco lights to watch while being photographed.
Time to go home. With pupils that no longer contract, each light had a corona. Every light had a corona. Fun for first few minutes, but after an hour on the bus, in traffic, I just wanted to go home and hide under the covers, in a dark room.
