Your Upcoming Appointment

the years-long saga of my crossed left eye

To: Laura Bass

From: Local Ophthalmologist

Subject: Your Upcoming Appointment

Please fill out and submit the attached forms at least five business days before your scheduled appointment. Plan to arrive at least 15 minutes before your listed appointment time. Be prepared to pay co-pays and present a valid form of ID and your insurance card when you check in at the front desk.

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To: Local OIphthalmologist

From: Laura Bass

Subject: Re: Your Upcoming Appointment

Here is the requested information. Please let me know if you need anything else!

Patient Name:

Laura Bass

Reason for visit:

My left eye is crooked. Crossed. Whatever you want to call it. My eyes have given up on working together and while my right eye looks where I tell it to, my left no longer does. It’s always pointed in, towards my nose. Unless I cover my right eye—then the left will straighten itself out. But I can’t go around holding a hand over my eye all the time, you know?

Length of Issue:

Eight years. EIGHT YEARS! My eye has been turning in for eight whole years (and four months). I know exactly how long it’s been happening because the very first time was right after my middle child was born. We did a family photo session when he was just a week or two old, and I vividly remember looking at the online proofs of the photo gallery. My left eye, looking in the wrong direction, jumped out at me. I pointed it out to my husband, “Look at my eye, see how it’s crossed? It’s never done that before.” 

He looked over my shoulder and shrugged, “It’s not that noticeable.”

Then my husband looked into my actual eyes. “It isn’t doing that right now though. Probably just the flash or something.” 

I kept noticing it in pictures. Not every single photo, but enough. That stupid left eye, looking towards my nose regardless of where my right eye was looking. I started trying to blink right before a photo was taken, hoping my eye wouldn’t have time to cross. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.

A few months later, it was time for my annual eye doctor appointment. I’ve worn glasses or contacts since fourth grade so every year I dutifully report to the eye doctor for an updated prescription and a new year's supply of contacts. In all those years of annual eye doctor appointments, I’d never had a concern or issue to report. 

Until now. 

The doctor didn’t think it was a big deal. “You just had a baby. And you have a toddler, too.  Pregnancy does weird things to your body. It’s probably because you are exhausted.” Exhausted was a good description of how I felt every day, so I accepted the explanation and hoped that eventually, I wouldn’t be so tired—and my eye would get back to normal. 

But, well, here we are. Eight years later. And now it’s just not in pictures. It’s every single day, all the time. I didn’t used to be able to tell when it happened—I only knew from photos. But now, I can feel it turning in. Constantly. As in, all the time. And I’m so tired of it.

Family History:

My middle son—the one who was born right before I started noticing this? He had to have strabismus surgery when he was three. His eye turned in, too. Isn’t that a weird coincidence? That my eye never did it until right after he was born and he had the same issue?

Secondary and Tertiary Medical Opinions:

Well, I’ve been asking about it at my annual eye appointment every year. At first, my eye doctor just kept telling me I was tired. 

Eventually, I saw a different doctor at the same practice. He told me that, yes, my eye was definitely turning in, but because I wasn’t seeing double, there wasn’t anything that could be done. Surgery, he said, might fix the eye-crossing issue, but it was likely to make me start seeing double. 

About a year ago, I saw yet another doctor, my third at that practice. My eye had gotten considerably worse by then. I was seeing it in every photo taken of me and in the mirror. I could feel it turning in now. Maybe this doctor was more experienced, or maybe she heard the desperation in my voice, because this one finally—finally, after seven years of this being my one and only concern at my ophthalmology appointments—told me that she could refer me to a vision therapist. The initial consultation might accept insurance, she told me, but insurance doesn’t often cover the actual therapy, so it could get expensive. But the vision therapist might be able to give me some ideas. Did I want the referral? 

“Please,” I said, desperate.

I walked out, past the dozens of pairs of glasses on display, and through the doors to the parking lot where I climbed into my minivan and sobbed. Finally, someone was willing to see that this problem that had plagued me for so long was an actual issue. Someone was willing to throw me even the tiniest bit of hope that there might be something I could do. 

Social Factors and Environmental Concerns:

You might wonder why I didn’t seek a second opinion, go ahead and find a new eye doctor after the first couple of times they didn’t seem interested in helping me with the one concern I’d brought to the appointment.

But a couple of years after the issue had started, I’d had another baby, so there were three kids vying for my attention, my thoughts constantly fragmented. Even getting myself to the eye doctor to get my prescription updated seemed like an impossible feat some years. And then there were the pandemic years, where I was just treading water, doing my best to keep my head from going under. And so—as moms often do—I just pushed my complaint to the bottom of the list. There were other doctors appointments to make, more pressing, for my kids. I could deal.

Until I couldn’t anymore. By this point, my eye was constantly on my mind. So the relief I felt when I finally got that referral was immense.

Referrals:

Except I could never get in touch with them. No one called me from their office. I followed up, two or three times, asking the eye doctor to resubmit the referral, and leaving messages at the vision therapist’s office. But, crickets.

My hope faded, but I couldn’t forget the relief I’d felt when I thought I was being connected to someone who could help me. My husband’s coworker had formerly worked in optometry, and I asked him to see if she had any other recommendations. She gave me a name, and back in the spring, I finally got my long-awaited visit with a vision therapist—eight months after I’d first gotten a referral.

I walked into that appointment trying to keep my hopes down. But my eye was getting even worse. I had to do something. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life plagued by one eye not cooperating with the other.

After three hours, an endless barrage of tests, and a journey through old photos on my phone, so the doctor could see the progression of my eye over time, she gave me her prognosis: surgery was needed. But she doesn’t do surgery.

So she gave me a referral to yet another doctor—that’s you. And after several more months of waiting (these appointments sure are hard to get), I’m hoping you are the one who is finally going to be able to help me.

Impact of Issue on Daily Life: 

The turned-in eye is always on my mind but it hasn’t seemed to really affect my vision. My prescription has stayed pretty steady over the years, just the incremental changes I expect as I age. Even without the surgery that I was warned could make things worse, I’ve started seeing double on occasion. Only if I’ve been looking at something high contrast for a while, though. I think it’s been causing some headaches, but they aren’t too terrible. My hand-eye coordination has never been great, but I think it’s gotten worse. 

The real problem though, is my self-confidence. It’s plummeted. I’ve never been the most outgoing, extroverted person—I’ve always been a little bit on the shyer side. But now I dedicate at least twenty percent of my brain space during every conversation to wondering what my eye is doing, and what the person I’m talking to is thinking about it. 

Most people in my life—adults well-schooled in social skills and politeness—never mention it. My husband acknowledges it when I bring it up, but it doesn’t seem to phase him. My own kids don’t seem to notice. But I know it’s noticeable because kids other than mine are quick to comment on it. 

“Why does your eye look funny?” I’ve been asked, or  “Why are your eyes crossed?”

Every time, I try to respond with a laugh, shrugging off the innocent observations of elementary schoolers. They are right—my eye does look funny.

But on the inside, I’m not so flippant about it. 

Summer—always my favorite season—has become even more of a relief because I can hide my eye behind sunglasses most of the time. I’ve always been a big, “let’s document this,” kind of person, always snapping photos and selfies. But I’ve stopped suggesting photos or taking as many selfies with my kids (unless I’m wearing my sunglasses) because I know the only thing I’ll see will be my left eye turned in towards my nose. I know it’s a minor issue in the grand scheme of things. I shouldn’t let it bother me so much. But it does.

Questions to ask the doctor:

I’m familiar with the surgery. My middle child had it when he was three and it was all pretty straightforward and worked like expected. So my biggest question is how soon can you get me in? How much longer do I have to wait for this to be over? And how confident are you that this will do the trick? I read the fine print. I know it’s not a guarantee. I know that there might have to be additional surgeries in the future. I know recovery is probably going to be harder for me as an adult than it was for my toddler. 

Other things I’m wondering: Can you guarantee I won't dread looking at pictures of myself after the surgery? Can you guarantee I'll get my confidence back?

I have to ask: if you don’t fix it, you aren’t going to make it worse, right? What’s the worst outcome you’ve ever had? Wait a minute—don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know. I just want to know when I can get on the calendar.

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From: Local Ophthalmologist

To: Laura Bass

Subject: Appointment Follow Up

Thank you for visiting the ophthalmologist. We are currently scheduling close to a year out for surgeries. Our surgery coordinator will be in touch soon.