I used to take pride that despite working on computers and night shifts, I remained spectacle-free till 40. Most of my colleagues had begun wearing spectacles in their 20s and some senior ones had glasses with soda bottle thickness by the time they reached 40s. The only visits I made to eye specialists were when I fell prey to seasonal conjunctivitis attacks.
Around the age of 42, I started finding it difficult to read newspapers and books. The letters acquired a blurry halo and I could read clearly only when they were placed at arm’s length. However, I didn’t have any problem while using computers, as they were placed at a distance and offered the luxury of increasing the font size.
During a visit to my hometown around that period, I decided to visit an eye specialist. After paying the consultation fees, the nurse applied drops to dilate my eyes and told me to wait. After about 20 minutes I was called in. By then I could barely see anything clearly, everything appeared blurred with a bluish outline.
The doctor was seated behind a white gadget consisting of lenses, mirrors, and knobs. He told me to sit at the other end and place my chin at a designated place. He then switched on the machine and began examining me. I could feel a beam of light directed into my eyes.
While the examination was still in progress, he remarked: “Do you have glaucoma? The condition of your nerves appears to be similar.”
I froze on hearing this. All my cockiness about eyesight evaporated. I began lamenting that I have not even started wearing glasses, and I might have fallen prey to a dreaded ailment - often referred to as a ‘silent thief of sight’. I was tongue-tied and could barely mumble.
After the examination got over, the doctor asked whether my parents had glaucoma. I replied in the negative. He then asked about my relatives. I mentioned that a couple of them from my father’s side had the disease.
My paternal aunt had glaucoma and it was detected very late, leading to blindness. It happened while I was in college and that was the first time I was hearing about the disease and its dangerous consequences if not detected and treated early.
I told him I was leaving the next day for Bangalore and he told me to undergo a perimeter test, to check my vision field, during my next visit. I was too shaken by the episode and did not tell anyone home about the doctor’s hunch.
In Bangalore, I went to another doctor and underwent a vision test conducted by an optometrist. After examination, he concluded that I needed reading glasses, wrote details about the power in a paper, and directed me to the doctor.
She went through the report and then she happened to notice some redness in my eye. She asked, “Do you have glaucoma in your family.” I repeated the same explanation - my parents don’t have but one of my aunts has. She too recommended a perimeter test.
I then booked the test at the same hospital. They plastered one of my eyes and told me to use the other eye to look into a globe-like contraption and focus on the dot at the centre. Whenever I saw a tiny speck of light in that globe, I need to click the button provided to me. After a few false starts, I finished the test and they repeated it for the other eye.
I got a glazed printout of the hits and misses I had in spotting the tiny flash of light. It appeared less than perfect to me. The lab assistant told me that the doctor was not in town.
Meanwhile, I ordered a pair of reading glasses at an optical shop and got the delivery in a couple of days. I found it much more comfortable to read newspapers and books and got into my routine.
The fear of glaucoma was lurking in the background, but I just didn’t have the nerve to confront it by going to the doctor. Any redness in my eyes used to trigger panic, but somehow living in denial appeared convenient. The fear of what if I had the disease used to make me jittery.
This went on for years (didn’t dare to count) and later when reading became difficult despite wearing spectacles, I realized it was time to see a doctor and prepare for the inevitable. By this time a couple of my cousins had fallen prey to the ailment.
I went to a clinic run by a veteran doctor. The optometrist was aghast when I told him that I was getting my eye tested after seven years. He examined my eye and told me that my distant vision too was failing. I too had realized that when I went to attend a public meeting. The face of the speakers appeared unclear and hazy.
After that, I was ushered into the doctor’s room. He was an aging bald man with a pleasant demeanor. He was a stroke survivor with a dysfunctional left arm and walked with a limp. A nurse was assisting him to move around and adjust the instruments.
He then examined my eye using the instrument and examined the optometrist’s report. He seemed satisfied with the condition of my eye and advised me to change the power of the glasses.
I stepped out of the clinic with a cautious satisfaction that he does not suspect that I have glaucoma. I also began rationalizing that it has nearly been a decade since consulting the first doctor and if I had the disease it would have manifested by now.
For the next two years, we were in the midst of a Coronavirus pandemic with two deadly waves and numerous lockdowns. A year later after things began returning to normal I thought of consulting the doctor again. However, when I went there the clinic had disappeared. I surmised the ailing doctor may have stopped practice or Covid took a toll. I made some inquiries with my friends living near the clinic, but they didn’t know what happened to him.
One of them informed me that a new branch of a well-known eye hospital had opened nearby and suggested that I visit them instead. He claimed he had a good experience when he went there.
A few more months passed and I realized that my distant vision was failing. While walking on the road I could see people around 25 metres away, but their faces became clearly visible only when they came nearer.
I visited the eye hospital my friend had recommended and moments after I completed my registration formalities my name was called up by an optometrist.
They made me sit in front of a gadget and place my chin at a chin rest. From the eyepiece, I saw an object at a distance and it kept on shifting till it became blurred. Then they made me sit in front of another gadget nearby to carry out an air puff test. As I placed my left eye near the lens, I experienced a burst of air and I blinked in panic. Later they did the same with the right eye.
After a few minutes, they told me to meet the doctor on the second floor. My name was called in after a wait of over 20 minutes. The woman doctor examined my eye closely and the condition of my optic nerve aroused her suspicion. She told me they appear weak and referred me to the chief doctor.
I had expected him to be fairly senior looking, but he was actually a young pleasant-mannered man with a neatly trimmed beard. He examined my eyes and said the condition of the optic nerve was a bit peculiar and tried to explain this by drawing a diagram. He explained this could be due to two reasons – by birth (no reason to worry) or due to glaucoma. He suggested that I undergo a visual field test and two other tests to get clarity.
As it happened to be a Friday, I had to wait for the weekend to get over to undergo the tests. I was getting anxious during the weekend, and kept telling myself to take a philosophical approach and follow the good old adage - “cross that bridge when you come to it”.
On Monday I reached the hospital around the afternoon. Initially, they poured drops into my eyes and I had a mild burning sensation. They told me to keep my eyes closed.
In about two hours I completed those three tests and I must admit that ophthalmic optometry seems to have undergone a generational change. Ahead of the third test – pachymetry, they had again applied drops, and I had blurry vision. After the tests, I was told to wait for the doctor and I was calm and resigned to face any eventuality.
Finally, my name was called and the doctor beamingly told me that I don’t have the disease. He explained that my field vision was fine, and hence the condition of my optic nerve was by birth. He even showed me the field vision of a glaucoma patient, which was pockmarked with black spots.
He advised me to carry out yearly check-ups and preserve the reports in case I consult any other doctor, as he felt they too would have this suspicion.
This would have been good news to anybody, but to me, it was really special – finally, I could shed the huge load I was secretly carrying for over a decade.
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