I had a sudden and unsettling change in my vision in the last week — a spot of blurriness, dead-center in my right eye — and after a few days of fretting, got in to see an ophthalmologist today. I told her I was concerned about macular degeneration.
“Oh, so you’ve been online?” she asked, with just a whisper of condescension, enough that I wondered if I should ask if she went to a college of osteopathic medicine because she couldn’t get into a real medical school. But I didn’t. I’m sure doctors deal with a lot of hypochondriacs, and I’m sure the web has enabled new frontiers of symptom-searching and rare disease obsessions. I’m sure it comes up a lot.
However. The flip side of a doom-fearing patient is one who is taking an interest in their own health. My friend Dr. Frank always said he’d rather have a patient with a sheaf of Reader’s Digest clippings, half of them crap, than the lump who sits there and says, “What kinda pills you gonna give me for my emphysema?”
So that was the afternoon’s irritation. That, and the dilated pupils.
It turns out I have a fluid deposit on the macula. (“So yes, it was something.” — my doctor.) Need to see another specialist. The treatment might be waiting it out, or surgery. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted. I already told Alan that if I’m struck blind, I intend to be one of those blind people who insists on touching everyone’s face. I will out-blind Stevie Wonder. But I doubt it will come to that.
How do you deal with doctors who get on your nerves?
And as always, I have to say: I’m grateful to have health insurance.
I don’t have much bloggage today. Some interesting data from the Wonkblog: Nine facts about marriage and childbirth in the U.S.
Beyond that, it’s just Wednesday night, and now, Thursday morning.