Retinologist Number 5 referred me to Dr. Low Vision, an ophthalmologist who specializes in helping people with visual impairments. I filled out a series of papers – questionnaires, data sheets – all in big print – and made an appointment to see her. The appointment was only a month away, but it felt like an eternity. For 15 years, I’d been grappling with my “interesting” eyes and suddenly there was a whole new dimension: I could do something about it. I had now acknowledged that I needed and wanted help, and I was going to get it.
On the day of the appointment, I gathered up my Kindle (I wanted the doctor to check the settings) and all my other eye paraphernalia. Together, my husband and I drove to Annapolis. Dr. Low Vision sees patients at several different doctors’ offices, and stays booked up well in advance. The first appointment I could get was at an Annapolis office. We arrived a few minutes early, and were people-watching in the waiting room when we saw a 50ish woman walk in dragging two wheeled cases. She had on a comfortable long dress (like I wear) and a streak of blue in her hair. We guessed instantly that this must be her; if she’d been a patient she wouldn’t have had all the baggage, and if she’d been a drug company rep she’d have been more fashionably dressed.
Sure enough, in a few minutes the woman came out with a folder in her hand and called my name. This was Dr. Low Vision.
She had my medical record and all the pictures from Retinologist Number 5, so there were no bright lights in the eyes this time; all she had me do was read the standard eye chart. I liked her already. Within minutes, she was going through her sack of goodies and pulling out all sorts of gadgets and gizmos. “Big, bright and bold,” she said, “That’s what we’re after.” For the next hour, I was like a kid in a candy shop. I tried a variety of different magnifiers. I learned that there are lots of different kinds and that choosing the right one is almost like being fitted for glasses. I learned that I should ignore the manufacturer’s “power” rating like 3X or 4X, and look for the diopter value. “Power” rankings are like women’s dress sizes – they vary from manufacturer to manufacturer. Diopter values are standardized across all brands, and give you a much better idea of how well they will work for you.
I learned about sunglasses. I tried on all different colors of sunglasses, and learned for the first time that the colors were for more than just fashion. Brown lenses increase contrast, especially in overcast hazy light. Yellow increases depth perception. Gray is good for color. Who knew?
She adjusted my Kindle. I had already changed the font to the sans serif to make it more readable, but she widened the line spacing and it made all the difference in the world.
We talked about escalators. Escalators all have a yellow stripe on each step, but about half of them have the yellow line on the inside edge, not the edge you’ll fall off if you can’t see where it is. She agreed it makes no sense. For my part, I’ve started using the elevators.
We talked about driving . . . sigh . . . and she said, “we’ll keep you driving as long as we can.” I talked about my crafts and she recommended some clip-on magnifiers. She was wonderful and had an answer for just about everything.
Mid-way through the appointment, she left the room and came back pushing a cart with a machine on it. It had a small camera and a large monitor. I looked at it and said, “I don’t need that!” She turned it on, put a newspaper crossword puzzle under it and then left the room for awhile. I started playing with the buttons and I couldn’t believe that I could read the clues and see the numbers on the little boxes. I could also put my hand under the monitor and write with a pencil. When the doctor came back into the room, I told her I thought the machine was way cool. It would help with reading paper and print (I’m all Kindle when it comes to books), AND I could do my beadwork under it! OMG!
I suppose it was a therapy session as much as an eye appointment. Dr. Low Vision was my vision from heaven. I thought about a former neighbor who had low vision, and became completely housebound because of it. I thought about Retinologists 1 through 4 who were so focused on my retinas that it never occurred to them there was an actual person attached to those eyeballs. Every retinologist should know about low-vision specialists, and should make it a point to tell people about all the stuff that is available.
How do people learn all this, I wondered? I’m an expert in health care delivery and in aging and I didn’t know any of this! And then it dawned on me – most people don’t know.
Dr. Low Vision gave me a catalogue with all kinds of neat gadgets in it. She made some recommendations for me about magnifiers and also referred me for rehab services through the State of Maryland. I wasn’t quite sure what “rehab services” meant except that I was very interested in the machine that might help me continue my beadwork, and Dr. LV told me they could help with that.
I left the office with a big smile, ready for the next step of the journey.
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