A little wonky

On Tuesday I had an appointment with my ophthalmologist. I have been waiting for this, because one of the side effects of chemo therapy has been that my eyesight has changed significantly. Shortly before my diagnosis, I got new glasses. Now I can barely see through them. Interestingly, I found that an old pair of glasses from my past work better, so I have been wearing those. 

Before I go to the optometrist to get new glasses, it seems like a good idea to have an ophthalmologist check my eyes to make sure they are organically healthy. As it turns out, there is a problem. Dr. Osterholzer, whom we know affectionately as "Dr. O," said my corneas are "a little wonky." Jill loved that. She said, "Now that's a medical term I can understand!" 

By "a little wonky," Dr. O explained she meant that the corneas of my eyes are kind of wrinkled around the edges. She also mentioned that my left cornea has a nodule along one edge. In addition, my eyes seemed a bit dry to her. Oh, and did I mention that my developing cataracts have arrived? "You will need cataract surgery this year," I heard. 

OK, so what are we going to do about this, Dr. O? [Rabbit trail alert] When I was diagnosed with colo-rectal cancer in 1996 I had an interesting experience. I had always thought that if I were ever told I had cancer, I would curl up in the fetal position and suck my thumb until it was over. To my surprise, having seen the cancerous ulceration of my colon on the monitor during the colonoscopy (yes, I know I'm weird because I like to watch that kind of stuff), when my doctor began stammering and trying to say "you have cancer" without saying it, I calmly replied, "I know what that is. What are we going to do about it?" When I was told I have leukemia, I had a similar reaction.

So, here's Dr. O's plan. She started me on moisturizing eye drops and some ointment to put in my eyes at bedtime. We will continue that treatment for a couple of weeks, and then she will reevaluate. If that doesn't work, the next step is a surgical procedure. You may want to sit down before you read this next part. What she is proposing involves "scraping" the surface of my corneas and then covering them for a couple of weeks with contact lenses and applying eye drops until they heal. At that point, my corneas should be nice and smooth. That's important, because about 2/3 of the refraction in the human eye comes from the cornea. The remainder comes from the lens. So, having a nice smooth cornea BEFORE cataract surgery is critical to a good outcome. Did I mention that cataract surgery is essentially a matter of replacing my old, cloudy natural lens with a crystal clear, artificial lens. Hmm, if that sounds more involved than taking pills, it is. 

Here we are then, facing more medical treatment, although I told Jill that, compared to chemotherapy, this sounds like a walk in the park. Nevertheless, if you are a praying person, I would appreciate your sending a few up to the Great Physician as we move forward. 

"Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again; and he opened his eyes, his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly." (Mark 8:25) Wouldn't it be nice if my eyes could be taken care of that way? 

Tuesday's clinic visit was completed by a stop in the primary care office for a second dose of shingles vaccine. That should be my last vaccination for some time. I can't say I'm sorry about that, but other than a bit of soreness at the injection site, it wasn't a big deal.

I know this is a different kind of vision, but this is one of my favorite verses: "Where there is no vision, the people perish. But he who keepeth the law, happy is he." (Proverbs 29:18)