I'm not special, I just can't see very well...
Just a quick update to add my OCT image. I’ve added here and to last night’s post (so you can compare mine with the normal one posted on the Vitreous Retina Macula Consultants of New York website.) I kind of think mine looks like two people laying on the beach on their bellies and seeing just their backs and butts. I’m hoping to hear from the doctor today or tomorrow.
My OCT scan from 11 Jan 2010.
What an adventure today at the Pagoda Building at 100 Presidential Ave. After a few minutes in the waiting area, we were called back. I followed Irene into a very dimly lit room, stumbling slightly on one of the stools. I sat on a stool that seemed to be a bit too high for the machine I was supposed to put my chin in while pressing my forehead against the bar. The device that was going to take the images and measurements of my retina looked similar to an older (circa 1998) surveillance camera. Inside the lens was this cool blue light, slightly lighter than the blue light on the machine that reads your IOP, that looked similar to something in a sci fi movie with a thin red line across the horizon that looked like a laser.
My good fortune was that the machine was brand spanking new and both Irene and Todd had not yet mastered it. Irene couldn’t get a good set of images and kept asking me if I was diabetic, which I am not. She then said that the cataract in that eye must be really dense, because they couldn’t get a clear image. She then decided to dilate my eye. (This test was only for the left eye. The right is waiting for the Six Million Dollar Man eye and I haven’t spotted those at Radio Shack yet.) Dr. Pro had asked that the eye be dilated, but Irene thought it wasn’t necessary at the beginning. While my pupil was dilating, Irene stepped out of the room. Todd, Eliz, and I talked about the machine. I asked Todd a question and didn’t get a response. Eliz then answered for him. Seems he didn’t realize I couldn’t see him and he nodded yes to answer my question. After about 10 minutes, Irene walked back in, but Todd wanted his turn on the machine, so Irene coached him. He couldn’t get a good image either. Irene’s turn again.
After about 10 to 15 minutes of trying, we were asked to go wait in another waiting area. We only waited there a couple of minutes and then it was back into the hot seat for me (and I didn’t stumble in the room this time since my eye was dilated…) Finally, Irene was able to get the correct images the doctor ordered. I asked if I could have one put on my flash drive. Irene said no, but said she’d print one out. As she looked through all the images, she realized that they weren’t that good. She asked if she could try again on getting a good image. At this point, either Eliz or I mentioned the Endothelial transplant from December 2008. She then said that might be why she couldn’t get a good image. Whatever. She got some images she was happy with and printed one out for me… In black and white! The doctor will have a look in a day or two. I’ll call on Wednesday to see what the story is.
I’ve got a scanner issue that is stopping me from uploading the image. Hopefully I’ll figure it out tomorrow and have the image up here then. I know it doesn’t look like this image:
OCT demonstrating normal retinal architecture.
My OCT scan from 11 Jan 2010.
So now I have to wait to hear from the doctor. My image is a bit more “hilly” than the image above. I’m hopeful this is the reason for my latest issue. I also hope this can be fixed.
So, today marked the first anniversary of my partial cornea transplant (for those that need to know specifics, I had a DSAEK procedure, which is a partial-thickness corneal transplant that replaces only the endothelial layer.) I guess this means that at least part of my body (a very small part on a rather large body) is 70 years old. God knows I often feel like I’m 70…
When I had the surgery, I wondered how well I would see in the days and months afterwards. As I’ve mentioned in other posts, most of my doctors were pretty optimistic. They all agreed that unless something went wrong, I’d get back to 20/200. Some thought I could get to 20/100 or even better. One year later and my vision is at 20/400.
Dreams of reading a newspaper, magazine, purchase orders, invoices (those that I create to send to a customer, not those sent by a vendor — Eliz can read those,) mail, and anything else printed on paper never came true. Wild fantasies of tossing a softball around with Jane, hitting a tennis ball around with Jake, going to a Phillies, Flyers, or Eagles game (you know, I’ve never been to the Link) and enjoying it have all been placed back deep in the corner of my mind next to being a rock star, an action-hero actor, or a top chef.
As I’ve previously posted, none of my ophthalmologists know why my vision has deteriorated since June. Maybe it’s from the mold at our business (we’ll know shortly, because we are vacating or current building very shortly.) Maybe it’s age related. Maybe it’s because I’ve gained weight. Maybe it’s just supposed to be this way.
I have an appointment on 9 December with the cornea specialist. Perhaps he will have an answer better than the last time I saw him, when he told me that he didn’t know what it was and it would be a hard fix. I’ll post sometime after the appointment and let you know.
I do plenty of complaining, whining, and ranting here. One thing I’m not sure I’ve ever done is thank the donor of the endothelia that now resides on the fifth layer of my cornea. I don’t know who he or she was. I only know that the donor was 69 years old when they died and without their cornea (even though they only used the endothelia, the whole cornea was available to me) I would almost certainly be much worse off. Thank you sir/madam, I do appreciate your gift.
