"The Eyes Have It" by Troy H. Cheek on Sep 01, 2008
As I mentioned a while back, my PCP (Primary Care Physician, though I have a better expansion for that abbreviation) decided that I needed to see a real eye doctor and set up an appointment for me. Said real eye doctor examined my eyes, told me there was absolutely nothing was wrong, I had no reason to worry about my eyes, then told me it was vitally important to come back in a few months for a battery of tests to find out what the problem was.
She managed to work "don't worry" into the conversation three or four times. If she'd just mentioned it once, I probably wouldn't have worried at all.
I arrived at the appointed time and place and signed in. Or, at least, I attempted to. None of the clipboards on the registration desk mentioned the name of my eye doctor or "routine tests to see why your eyes are falling out of your head." I signed the nearest clipboard.
Some time later, the registration person called me over and told me I'd signed the wrong clipboard. I should have signed the clipboard for tests. I told her that I didn't see one. She humphed at me like I was a child or something and shuffled through the clipboards. It was some time before she at least had to decency to look embarrassed. She wandered off for a while and came back with another clipboard.
Before I had a chance to sign it, someone called my name. It was the person who was to administer the tests. I shall call her "The Technician."
The Tech led me to to a device and strapped my head into it. I was told, as has been my experience every time I go to an eye doctor, to open my eyes wide and stare directly ahead. I thought I was prepared, but I flinched anyway.
"Why did you flinch?" asked the Tech.
"It felt like a milliwatt laser just blasted all the way through my eyeball."
"Oh. Well, that's kind of what just happened." She went on to explain that the light was mapping the internal structures of my eye. I went on to explain that I worked at a hospital around doctors and nurses and technicians all the time, so I generally had some idea what was going on when I was having tests done, but that I'd never had much experiences with eye doctors, so I was kind of flying blind.
So to speak.
For the second test, she briefed me before she fired lasers at my face. This test was supposed to take care of my peripheral vision. Tiny lights flickered in my field of vision. Whenever I saw a flicker, I was to push this little button. This went on for a subjective hour or two.
"That's the world's most boring video game," I announced when I was finally finished.
"It's not much fun," she agreed. "I think you did much better than I did the first time I tried this test." She patted me on the shoulder. "Now, let's do that other eye."
It wasn't any more fun. I think I did better with the second eye. I was either getting better with practice or this was my good eye. If I even had a good eye anymore.
The third test was the one I liked the least. The Tech explained that she needed to measure the thickness of my cornea.
"That doesn't sound too bad," I said. "What are we going to use this time? Another laser? Ultrasonics? Witchcraft?"
"Um, actually, we're going to stick a probe to the surface of your eyeball." She actually seemed more squeamish than I was about the concept. I was the one getting the anaesthetic.
The drops stung a bit, but not for long. The hard part was keeping my eyes wide open while the tiny little probe approached. It only looked as big as a major league baseball bat. When it touched the surface of my eye, I saw a ripple effect, so I think there was indeed some ultrasonic vibration going on.
We had to repeat the test on the second eye several times, the ripples getting stronger and stronger as she pressed the instrument harder and harder against my eyeball. The Tech went off to check with another tech, then hit me with another dose of the anaesthetic. Trying a slightly different spot, with a few ripples we got the reading.
I wondered what all these numbers meant.
"What do all these numbers mean?" I wondered.
The Tech wasn't exactly sure. She thought perhaps we were simply getting a baseline against which we could measure future eye changes. What she was sure was that the eye doctor would be able to answer all my questions during my next regularly scheduled checkup in a year or two.
"Actually, the doctor wants to see me next month. We set up the appointment at the same time we set up these tests."
"Oh, well, um, I'm sure that's just routine. Nothing to worry about. I wouldn't worry if I were you."
I'm not worried. Not in the slightest.
