Crystal Clear

Mama sporting her new glasses frames at the optometrist

It's about time for an update on my sweet mama. When I last blogged in October, she was planning to see Ophthalmologist #4. After waiting a few weeks, we walked into his exam room. He looked at her eyes and said, "Yes, you need more surgery, and I can do that. I think we should let your eyes settle a while longer after the cataract surgery, though--maybe six to eight weeks--and then we'll clear the crystals out of her eye and put a little hole in her iris to make sure she doesn't get glaucoma."

"What about reading?" I asked.  "Mama's favorite thing in the world is to read. Is there any way she can see between now and the surgery?"

"Sure," said Doctor #4.  "You could go see an optometrist and see what they can do for her."

Hurray, we thought. We made the pre-op appointment to see Dr. #4 on our way out. The first available time--and I kid you not--was TWO MONTHS down the road, November 28.

Off we went to see the optometrist a few days later, to see if we could get her some fix for reading glasses. Dr. Optometrist looked at Mama's eyes and could not get a measurement. Could not. Not a bit. The verdict: can't do anything for you. Too many crystals in your vitreous fluid. Can't see the back of your eye. Wait for your surgery.

Our little family was so despondent at the news. That night I called Dr. Art in Washington state with the update. He is, as you may recall (although it's been a long time since I started this story), our family friend who had done the cataract surgery. Talking to Art, I got choked up.  "I feel like we're wasting two or more months of my mom's time of being mentally sharp," I said. "I feel so bad for her. She hasn't been able to see clearly since before we moved here, and this is taking so long."  Because she couldn't see, she was sleeping a lot every day, and that was scary.

I could tell he was frustrated with the process, too. "Let me make a call and get back to you," he said. Having parents who are retired doctors, I know that when a doctor gets a bee in his bonnet, he makes things happen that otherwise wouldn't. I felt much relieved just to have Art understand, let alone intervene.

Fifteen minutes later the phone rang. "Can you go see my friend, Dr. B, tomorrow?" he asked. "I worked with Dr. B as my attending in my residency. He has years and years of experience, and he'll fit your mom in if you can take her tomorrow." 

Little birdwalk:  When I checked out Dr. B later on his website, I saw that he's done more than 13,000 of the surgeries my mom needed.  Thirteen THOUSAND.  "That's not as many as delivering seventeen THOUSAND babies," Husband wisecracked later, referring to my mom's formidable record as an obstetrician. We all dissolved in laughter, including Mama.

I was breathless at Art's suggestion that we could get help the next day. Tomorrow??? I had committees and appointments on my calendar for the next day. Nevertheless, you don't disrespect a doctor who intervenes for you. I cleared my calendar, hope reappeared for all of us, and we were off to see Dr. B the next day.

Dr. B. saw Mama and scheduled her for her first surgery the following day, which was less than a week after we'd been told to wait another 6-8 weeks. "Those faculty doctors work in a beaurocracy," Dr. B. said. "They are forced to be ultra conservative in their approach. I can't work like that." His office was friendly and efficient, and he was no-nonsense and came across as very sure of himself. I suppose that would make sense, when you've done 13,000 surgeries on eyes.

So Dr. B did the surgery to clear the crystals out of Mama's eyes and put a little hole in her iris to relieve the crowding of the structures at the front of her eye. He walked into the waiting room and told my dad and me all had gone well, handed Daddy eye drops to administer to Mama's eye once the patch came off, and left to do his next surgery.

As a precaution, my parents stayed at our house for a day, since Mama had been told to keep her eye patch on until the morning after the surgery. I woke up at 4:30 that morning to the sounds of jibber-jabber coming up from downstairs.  There were my mid-eighty-year-old parents, sitting on the couch in the living room, holding hands and chattering excitedly because Mama had pulled off her eye patch (thinking it was morning already) and she could READ! She could read even small print, even without glasses! This is my Mama who has worn thick glasses ever since she was six years old.

Dr. B. did Mama's second eye a week later, with similar results. And yesterday I took Mama to get measured and fitted for her glasses that will do the last little bit for getting her crystal clear vision.

Needless to say, both Art and Dr. B are heroes in our books. Consider this: the job is all done, it was done well, and we still haven't reached the November 28 date for Mama's pre-op visit with Dr. #4. We are so so thankful.

Oh yeah. I'd better remember to cancel that November 28 appointment. Hallelujah!