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plonqChildhood rhyme or prophetic words?
I went to see a retinal specialist yesterday afternoon.atara dropped me off at the clinic half an hour before my appointment, and I found myself confronted with a line to get into the building that stretched around the corner and halfway down the block. I stood in the line for about ten minutes before I calculated that there was not much hope of me making my appointment at the rate it was moving. I called the office to let them know about the line, and they seemed neither surprised, nor concerned.
While I had them on the phone, I also asked them where they were located since their letter had only indicated the building they were in, and did not list the floor or desk. When I finally got into the building, I discovered that the delay went beyond the usual screening. They were limiting the number of people who could board an elevator, and one of the elevators was out of service. By the time I got to my appointment, I was about twenty minute late. I checked in, and they shooed me away to sit in the waiting area.
The seat had barely begun to warm from the presence of my butt on it when a technician came bustling out from the back and squirted two different kinds of drops into my eyes. One was to dilate the pupils, but I don't know the purpose of the other. Those usually take a few minutes to take effect, but before I could dab away the excess solution that was running down my face, another technician came out and herded me into one of the testing rooms. He asked me a bunch of questions, gave me a quick eye test and then hooked up the machine that took pictures of my brain (I assume that's what they were trying to see based on how brightly it flashed).
He left, and moments later another technician scurried in and applied more drops. One was a numbing agent, and the other was a dye. She used a pressure gauge on my eyes to see if I had glaucoma, then chased me across the hall to another lab where they had a different machine. This one had was different in that it didn't do bright flashes, but scanned in different directions with red lines, and occasionally pulsed red, with what looked like strange characters fading in and out like something out of the matrix. It was a surreal experience. And they billed me a hundred and fifty bucks for it.
Finally, she chased me to another office where I was to wait for the doctor. Once again, I barely had time to settle into the seat when he came in. They already had pictures of my retinas up on dual monitors, but he wanted to have a look for himself. He used one of those magnifying lenses and a light that was just on the uncomfortable side of bright to get a gander at the damage. He explained what I already knew - that a vein in the eye had either become blocked, clotted, or burst. There was too much blood to be certain which scenario it was in my case - not that it mattered that much since the treatment was the same for each. The area was swollen, and everything was a bit dark and blurry because the nerves were not getting enough oxygen. The fact that I still have blurry vision in the affected areas is a good sign, though, as it means the nerves aren't actually dead.
He described a few treatment options, and weighed the benefits and drawbacks of each. There were two different injectable treatments, lasers, and an oral medication. He waved off the oral medication immediately because it was one of the oldest treatments and had a lot of bad side-effects. He ruled out lasers very quickly as well, in part because there was too much blood to make them viable, and because they had a middling success rate and had a decent chance of making it worse.
The two injection treatments both had statistically identical success rates, though one usually took a few more treatments in exchange for having more benign side effects. He recommended that one since it matched the best success rate with the most benign downsides. Also, the province had lots of that one in stock. The three main pitfalls with this one are a fairly low chance of infection, cataracts, and torn retinae. He said, "but all of those are easily treated, so this is your best option IMO."
Then, without even bothering to ask which one I actually wanted, he said, "Since you're here already, we may as well get your first treatment out of the way."
I mean, this is the one I would have gone with anyway, but...
I went in there thinking I was going for a diagnosis and consultation, so I had not braced myself for the idea of getting a needle stuck in my eye. In retrospect, I think that is probably the best possible outcome anyway. If I had gone in there anticipating it, I think I'd have been a wreck by the time I got to the treatment room. Instead, it was a case of calm... calm... calm.. SURPRISE NEEDLE IN THE EYE.
When he was done, he sat me back up in the chair and told me to "sit here for a bit if you need to." Then he darted out of the room like I was about to detonate.
I was fine for about five seconds before I felt the early signs begin that I was about to faint. The doctor walked past the treatment room, and I gave him a tentative wave as he passed. A second later he backed up and did a double-take, so I waved again.
"I think I need to lie down," I said.
He took a quick look and must have noticed my pallid complexion and beads of sweat. "No problem," he said as he started tilting the chair back again. "This is a normal reaction."
As soon as he had it most of the way back I was already feeling better, and bid him stop leaning it any farther and chased him away. He said he would send back a technician with a cold compress for my forehead, but I used the brochures he'd given me to fan myself back to normalcy. By the time the lab assistant arrived, I told her that I was fine and that she could sit me up again. I got the impression that they were eager to prep the room for the next patient, and I didn't want to tie it up any longer than I needed to.
I remember a conversation from years ago, when I was standing in line with a bunch of fellow school-aged kids, all waiting to get our booster shots. We were discussing the worst place to get a needle, and the locations covered a gamut of places. We all agreed that in the webbing of the fingers would be bad, as would the fleshy area behind the ear, the tip of the tongue, the back of the leg behind the knee, arch of the foot and the eyeball.
One of the other pulled the, "my mom is a nurse" card and went into detail about how the eye probably wouldn't be that bad because it doesn't have a lot of nerves.
I speak now from experience, and I can say conclusively that it's bad. The eyeball is not a fun place to get a needle.
It didn't hurt too badly - the doctor applied a whack more of the numbing agent before he did it, but the sensation was ... unpleasant. My usual defence when I am getting a needle is to look away - what I don't see won't hurt me. When you are getting it in the eye, you literally cannot look away. You see the process from as close as it is possible to see it. The feeling of pressure, and watching the fluid he injected swirl through my vision and render me temporarily blind in that eye was unnerving. It was something I would not wish on anyone, and that I would not want to repeat.
I have to go back for the next of what may be many injections in a month.
Huzzah.
I went to see a retinal specialist yesterday afternoon.
atara dropped me off at the clinic half an hour before my appointment, and I found myself confronted with a line to get into the building that stretched around the corner and halfway down the block. I stood in the line for about ten minutes before I calculated that there was not much hope of me making my appointment at the rate it was moving. I called the office to let them know about the line, and they seemed neither surprised, nor concerned.While I had them on the phone, I also asked them where they were located since their letter had only indicated the building they were in, and did not list the floor or desk. When I finally got into the building, I discovered that the delay went beyond the usual screening. They were limiting the number of people who could board an elevator, and one of the elevators was out of service. By the time I got to my appointment, I was about twenty minute late. I checked in, and they shooed me away to sit in the waiting area.
The seat had barely begun to warm from the presence of my butt on it when a technician came bustling out from the back and squirted two different kinds of drops into my eyes. One was to dilate the pupils, but I don't know the purpose of the other. Those usually take a few minutes to take effect, but before I could dab away the excess solution that was running down my face, another technician came out and herded me into one of the testing rooms. He asked me a bunch of questions, gave me a quick eye test and then hooked up the machine that took pictures of my brain (I assume that's what they were trying to see based on how brightly it flashed).
He left, and moments later another technician scurried in and applied more drops. One was a numbing agent, and the other was a dye. She used a pressure gauge on my eyes to see if I had glaucoma, then chased me across the hall to another lab where they had a different machine. This one had was different in that it didn't do bright flashes, but scanned in different directions with red lines, and occasionally pulsed red, with what looked like strange characters fading in and out like something out of the matrix. It was a surreal experience. And they billed me a hundred and fifty bucks for it.
Finally, she chased me to another office where I was to wait for the doctor. Once again, I barely had time to settle into the seat when he came in. They already had pictures of my retinas up on dual monitors, but he wanted to have a look for himself. He used one of those magnifying lenses and a light that was just on the uncomfortable side of bright to get a gander at the damage. He explained what I already knew - that a vein in the eye had either become blocked, clotted, or burst. There was too much blood to be certain which scenario it was in my case - not that it mattered that much since the treatment was the same for each. The area was swollen, and everything was a bit dark and blurry because the nerves were not getting enough oxygen. The fact that I still have blurry vision in the affected areas is a good sign, though, as it means the nerves aren't actually dead.
He described a few treatment options, and weighed the benefits and drawbacks of each. There were two different injectable treatments, lasers, and an oral medication. He waved off the oral medication immediately because it was one of the oldest treatments and had a lot of bad side-effects. He ruled out lasers very quickly as well, in part because there was too much blood to make them viable, and because they had a middling success rate and had a decent chance of making it worse.
The two injection treatments both had statistically identical success rates, though one usually took a few more treatments in exchange for having more benign side effects. He recommended that one since it matched the best success rate with the most benign downsides. Also, the province had lots of that one in stock. The three main pitfalls with this one are a fairly low chance of infection, cataracts, and torn retinae. He said, "but all of those are easily treated, so this is your best option IMO."
Then, without even bothering to ask which one I actually wanted, he said, "Since you're here already, we may as well get your first treatment out of the way."
I mean, this is the one I would have gone with anyway, but...
I went in there thinking I was going for a diagnosis and consultation, so I had not braced myself for the idea of getting a needle stuck in my eye. In retrospect, I think that is probably the best possible outcome anyway. If I had gone in there anticipating it, I think I'd have been a wreck by the time I got to the treatment room. Instead, it was a case of calm... calm... calm.. SURPRISE NEEDLE IN THE EYE.
When he was done, he sat me back up in the chair and told me to "sit here for a bit if you need to." Then he darted out of the room like I was about to detonate.
I was fine for about five seconds before I felt the early signs begin that I was about to faint. The doctor walked past the treatment room, and I gave him a tentative wave as he passed. A second later he backed up and did a double-take, so I waved again.
"I think I need to lie down," I said.
He took a quick look and must have noticed my pallid complexion and beads of sweat. "No problem," he said as he started tilting the chair back again. "This is a normal reaction."
As soon as he had it most of the way back I was already feeling better, and bid him stop leaning it any farther and chased him away. He said he would send back a technician with a cold compress for my forehead, but I used the brochures he'd given me to fan myself back to normalcy. By the time the lab assistant arrived, I told her that I was fine and that she could sit me up again. I got the impression that they were eager to prep the room for the next patient, and I didn't want to tie it up any longer than I needed to.
I remember a conversation from years ago, when I was standing in line with a bunch of fellow school-aged kids, all waiting to get our booster shots. We were discussing the worst place to get a needle, and the locations covered a gamut of places. We all agreed that in the webbing of the fingers would be bad, as would the fleshy area behind the ear, the tip of the tongue, the back of the leg behind the knee, arch of the foot and the eyeball.
One of the other pulled the, "my mom is a nurse" card and went into detail about how the eye probably wouldn't be that bad because it doesn't have a lot of nerves.
I speak now from experience, and I can say conclusively that it's bad. The eyeball is not a fun place to get a needle.
It didn't hurt too badly - the doctor applied a whack more of the numbing agent before he did it, but the sensation was ... unpleasant. My usual defence when I am getting a needle is to look away - what I don't see won't hurt me. When you are getting it in the eye, you literally cannot look away. You see the process from as close as it is possible to see it. The feeling of pressure, and watching the fluid he injected swirl through my vision and render me temporarily blind in that eye was unnerving. It was something I would not wish on anyone, and that I would not want to repeat.
I have to go back for the next of what may be many injections in a month.
Huzzah.
