Every Doctor’s Appointment I Went On Last Week and the Lighting in Their Bathrooms, Rated
Hello all!
Sorry for the lack of newsletter last week, I ended up going on a marathon of doctor’s appointments nearly every day. But because of this, I thought we would do things a little differently~ SO, here is:
Every Doctor’s Appointment I Went On Last Week and the Lighting in Their Bathrooms, Rated
#1. My Appointment with my Cataract Surgeon - 8/10
The appointment: Overall, it went well! My cataract surgery was done in November / December, and probably the only surgery that did not have awful complications. After she examined me, she told me my vision was improving— with glasses I could see 20/25! A few weeks ago, I was reading 20/100 for reference. I hadn’t seen my surgeon since May, because of the non-stop surgeries that began in June. She had no idea what had happened to me, and asked to be caught up. I began telling her about the multiple surgeries, the ER, losing my vision, gaining it again, and I soon noticed my mom putting on her sunglasses. But seeing as the three of us were all sitting in a dark room, I knew this meant she was crying. When I was done with the appointment, we walked out and I asked her why she was so upset. “Hearing everything, you’ve just been through so much,” she said.” I smiled and tried to convince her I was okay. “I know I have, but I’m better now,” I reminded her.
It’s strange, a lot of times people will tell me I’m “so strong,” but I don’t feel strong for going to doctors appointments and going into surgery. To me, that’s all survival and a weirdly high pain tolerance. Putting one foot in front of the other. It’s more moments like these where I feel like I need to put on a good face and be strong for others, so they don’t get scared. Those moments feel much harder.
The bathroom lighting: This is by far the nicest bathroom lighting I have ever seen at any medical institution, hands down. If you need cataract surgery and a room with soft lightning, I can’t recommend this one enough!
#2. My Appointment with my Retina Surgeon - 5.5/ 10
The appointment: My vision was still 20/25, and my pressure looked good, too. He told me that I would not need another surgery to fix the valve and I had turned a corner. These were the words I had been waiting to hear for weeks, but I still didn’t feel completely assured. Maybe it was because this wasn’t the surgeon who had put in my valve, and so I didn’t feel at ease. But another element was that good news always feels dangerous when it comes to uveitis. I wanted to be happier, but I couldn’t. It had been four months of relentless bad news, and it felt dangerous to believe things were better, especially when my eye was still in pain. I wasn’t ready to celebrate until I knew for sure there would be no more surgeries and I really felt like myself again.
The bathroom lighting: I don’t love the fluorescent lights here. Plus, their bathroom has this annoying fish key that you need to bring along with you to open the bathroom door, but it’s just too big. This fish fits nowhere in the stall, and just makes an already clunky bathroom experience that much worse.
#3. My Appointment with my Uveitis Specialist - 4.2
The appointment: I was seeing a new specialist to get a second opinion, and we traveled to Boston to meet them. I had been looking forward to this appointment for a while— they felt like a fresh start. An escape from more of the same doctors I had been dealing with. She was very intelligent and thoughtful, and since this was our first time meeting, asked me to tell my story from the beginning, this time starting from when I was diagnosed in college. I got her up to speed, but now hearing my story sprawled out again, even more expanded, it was my turn to cry. It was hard to hear, even in such an objective tone, purely telling her dates of surgeries and which medications worked and didn’t. Listing the countless doctors I met with, and the disappointing ways they handled my care. I guess sometimes it’s hard to see myself or my situation clearly because I’m the one experiencing it, and I just need to keep pushing forward. But sitting there, describing my life in that way, it became harder to hear.
She didn’t end up providing any news I didn’t already know - that the valve looked better, but I’d have a better sense of everything in a few weeks. Then she told me something I didn’t know. I always thought that the implants they put in my eyes last November put me into remission, but it turned out that wasn’t true. They actually caused a “false remission,” where my eyes feel better, but once the implants run out in 2 years (they have a 3 year life span), my uveitis is likely to come back even worse. This was the hardest to hear, especially since no one had warned me before they put them in. It makes me feel like there’s constantly a timer running, and I better enjoy things before they get worse again. And look, maybe they won’t. There’s no way of knowing either way.
The bathroom lighting: Absolutely awful. Are you kidding me with this?
#4. My Appointment with my Glaucoma Surgeon - 7.8/10
The appointment: By the time I reached this appointment, I was going a little crazy from doctor’s appointments, but I had made it to my last one of the week. And guess what? I was seeing 20/20. When I saw my surgeon, he did an ultrasound over my eye and saw that almost all of the hemorrhage had resolved on its own. He took me off more medications, and when I asked him about the potential valve surgery, he said he couldn’t definitely know for sure, but it seemed positive. However, this news assured me more than the other surgeon who told me I definitely would’t need it. I know that nothing with this condition is ever absolute or known, and I respected the fact that he acknowledged this. It’s the same way I looked at things— not out of fear or pessimism, but an understanding that while I can be grateful for good news, everything is always subject to change. And that’s okay.
The bathroom lighting: There’s something about the fluorescent lights and shadows I… kind of like here?? Plus, there’s sort of this warm hue going. Never change, bathroom lighting.
I came to realize that while June - September turned into Crisis-Survival Summer, the next month or so would be Slow-Recovery Fall. It will be a lot of small improvements, and that means being patient with myself. But this phase always feels strange, where my mind feels ready to jump back into life and work and hang out with friends, but my body still hasn’t quite caught up and is doing everything it can to get there.
This was a lot of medical info so for our Oreo segment (don’t worry, I didn’t forget) - I fed him a teaspoon of milk the other day and he really liked it, confirming my suspicion that he is part-cat. Also, it’s my birthday tomorrow?! Who knew! A friend has generously sent me a steel tongue drum as a gift, which means I am about to become an absolute nightmare.
Anyway, see you next week for my Ranking of Every Doctor’s Hold Music, partnered with Spotify!
Love,
Julia