The f eye thing.

 So part 2...

(& while we are on the topic of "my hasn't this year flown by too fast", hasn't it?)

After my "here is another thing that 2023 has handed me" in this showcase of middle-aged white woman August trophy attempt, (and September was one of those unblogged BCC dramas that are years in the production), October arrived and with it, my date with the Ophthalmologist.

I have often wondered at the extra "hthalmolog" at the expense of the "tometr". Is it a specific set of subjects required to elevate themselves?

You KNOW that you have entered a different realm.

No more sweet offerings of quality eyewear at eyewatering prices with pretty women of indeterminate age ranges a soft barrier between world and charts on walls and "is this clearer" CLICK "or this" instructions.

You get VERY clear instructions on what is expected of you for WEEKS out - apparently.

I would have known if I had opened the attachment when they sent me the appointment notification by email.

I blame the link that I clicked and the form that I filled and the sense of satisfaction that I had been soooo efficient as to be ready seven weeks in advance.

Go me. High Five!!!

And that is why, when I got my reminder the Friday prior, and the telephonist enquired about the eyedrops I was using, I was confused.

Hadn't I done the high five on how organised I was?

Unfortunately just prior to that happy dance, I should have heard ominous music playing and seen the long shot of the attachment...

She said with concern "the eyedrops that you are meant to have put in your eyes FOUR times a day for the fortnight prior".

Still a bit behind the eight-ball, I said "but I didn't get any eyedrops".

She then kindly advised on the attachment like this was the first time anyone had ever made this particular blunder, even though I had failed to SEE the attachment and they are APPARENTLY the Rolls Royce of eye specialists.

But we agreed that it might be possible to still attend the long awaited clinic appointment on Tuesday to get the right measurements and advice, and just come back for a remeasure if necessary rather than reschedule the whole thing.

Tuesday rolled around and through the generosity of my colleague I arrived there on time and without the encumbrance of a car.

I was directed to wait in the first waiting room. 

Their Tuesday clinic ran like a well-oiled operation.

Three small antechambers operated efficiently, with clinicians doing the basic checks. Boom. Boom. Boom.

I was spat out into the back waiting room. No pretence of opulence here. The rows of chairs had a screen as a focal point, and those who did not have the foresight to bring a book or perhaps some crochet had no choice as there was no internet connection.

The screen showed documentary after documentary of eye deficiencies and diseases with what appeared to be a family of attractive ophthalmologists.

I got to wait there a LONG time because I was the lucky last one of the day but eventually (about three and a half documentaries down) the girl who took me through my preliminaries also took me through the next round - a room with about eight stations of weird and wonderful machines that all measured things to do with eyes slightly different ways.

Guess what I then got to do?

If you guessed "get to sit in that scintillating second waiting room again" then ding ding ding - you are tonight's lucky winner 🏆

Finally (and yes, one of the technicians who had been in one of the antechambers - not mine - was mopping the floor and thinking of switching off the lights) I got to wait in one of the consulting rooms for the Dr.

I did get slightly better entertainment for this bit as there was an iPad given to me to watch the Dr going through lens options and the risks of surgery.

When the Dr comes in we exchange pleasantries. I mentioned that she had performed the same operation on both of my parents.

I asked how come they got into their 70s without yet I am only in my 50s.

"Welcome to Sunny Queensland with a side-serve of never having sunglasses as my eyesight is so f-ed" is my theory.

She checked in their files and looked into my eyes and said "hmm".

"Well" she said "you've definitely got cataracts"

"But" she said "you've also got" and then she said an f-word.

Fuchs’ Endothelial Dystrophy

So it is official.

My eyes are fuch'd!!

"Which means that it takes options off the table. I am sorry to say you may still need to wear glasses". Said the Dr.

"Lady" I thought "only people who have never REALLY had such bad eyesight would ever really dream of that mythical land ".

So there may be a blurry few weeks in January next year as she has to take extra care and attention with such a potentially volatile situation.

I did google and regretted it, choosing instead to go with the "it is just as likely to go well" Pollyanna about it all.

And it's a good thing she will be using extra care and attention. I mean, that's how I want EVERY dr who operates on me to approach things.

And it's a fairly regular and recovery time for these ops are short - just that the extra care and attention required equals more time between eyes which means more time that my eyes will be in disaccord.

But what is new?