When I graduate to the six month interval eye appointment, it feels like I made it to the minor leagues after years of hard work. I don’t pretend to be steady enough for the majors (those yearly exams). That’s ok. I’m aware of my unique eye talent.
This week, I visited my retina surgeon for a six month appointment. My husband and I greeted the receptionist like old friends. We settled in to wait, as you do when you’re at the doctor’s office, but here I don’t mind. I know my eye surgeon and every person I meet along the way cares about me, treating me like a person, not just a patient.
We eventually walk back to an exam room so my eyes can be checked and dilated for the doctor. The lady completing the tests is new to me, which always means at some point this new person will realize my eyes are used to not only eye chart reading and eye drops, but also slit lamps and surgeries. I struggle to tell my eye history in the smallest bite possible. No one has THAT kind of time at work.
We enter a second room to wait for my doctor. He arrives, saying a cheerful greeting as he walks in the room. All of us are happy for these kinds of appointments, rather than the problem ones. He reports the best news as he scrolls around my eye with his lights and lenses: retina flat and attached. He lists out other things like my cup-to-disc ratio, peripheral iridotomy, and more medical terms you don’t care to bother with.
My husband smiles in relief. Once we leave the office, we will call my sister, so she can enjoy the retina status, too. A mini celebration occurs after every routine visit to my eye surgeon. Why not? If you can’t enjoy the little moments, you’re truly missing out on the big picture. Play ball!