Dr. DeMers was in semi-retirement then (I don't think he ever actually stopped going to his practice completely), and I had started seeing someone else in the office. I still can't remember his name, and don't think he even lasted all that long there before grandson DeMers and his wife took over. I asked him if anything could be done about them- yes, there is a procedure, he informed me... and no, he would not recommend it.
I wonder now if he even glanced to see my condition. Maybe he thought I had floaters. Still, I was not happy with this (or his prescriptions) and after Laura told me that she didn't care for this doctor either, we decided to change offices. I missed Dr. DeMers but retirement is retirement! We started going to a practice in the south area that Laura had used in her first marriage. That's when I got to scare the Assistant.
The now standard-in-my-experience tests were repeated on my first visit. But, when we got to one particular machine the assistant became, well, a little agitated.
First she looked in right eye and made a few notes - then the left. Then she stood up, checked all the different doodads on the machine, sat down and went back to staring into my left eye and twiddling knobs.
She started tapping her pencil. Eventually she was putting out a beat I could dance to. She got up and asked me to lean back while she cleaned the eyepiece on my side. Then back to tapping, adjusting, and finally she gave up altogether and called for the doctor on the intercom.
He was taking awhile so she left to seek him out, probably thinking the machine was busted. It didn't occur to me at all that she was flummoxed by my asteroids.*
*I'd always assumed that this new doctor would have my charts from the last (after all I had signed a form saying they could have them). That's not the same as reading them, though.
When the Doc appeared he set her straight - everything was fine (with the machine). She looked at me like she had just discovered a new kind of bug, and I got kind of creeped out. Yeesh.
I asked him later if I could have anything done about them.
"Do they bother you?", he asked.
"They didn't used to, but they do now. The glare from computer screens really sets them off. I'm finding it harder to concentrate, and harder to drive at night. Can anything be done?"
"There is a procedure, involving lasers; I would not recommend it. Too risky. And your insurance would not cover it."
That last statement surprised me. "Wouldn't cover it?" Weird. If my knee started giving out, that would certainly be covered. Or if I needed a root canal. What was the disconnect with eyes?
Five years later, on to Doctor #4, Dr. Conkey at Nevada Vision Group. I had turned 51 and the dang asteroids had bugged me SO much in the past year - work especially, and I would find myself covering my left eye while I worked, trying to concentrate on what I was seeing. In my personal life, driving at night was on my list of Things I Hate to Do. I just had to revisit this situation, even if the chances were not in my favor.
Dr. Conkey was still not really sympathetic but he had a surprise for me - the procedure was NOT all that risky (anymore, apparently) and, he had a colleague who did many of them, right next door at Nevada Retina Associates.
Still more of a surprise - "Will my insurance cover it?" I asked.
"Since it's giving you all this trouble, it should" he replied. "You could give it a shot."
Schedule me in!
Getting in to see Dr. Dhindsa was quick. After describing the procedure - Vitrectomy - and all the associated risks, he sent me home to discuss it with Laura and come to a decision. A few weeks ago, we returned to his office with a few more questions, got them answered, got insurance preauthorization, and as I write this, I am 90 minutes away from checking in to the hospital for the procedure.
Dr. Dhindsa describes the patients that get this procedure as being his happiest post recovery. I'm hoping to be one of them!
to be continued...
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