Finally, the day of the eye doctor visit was here. It was on a Tuesday at 2pm. We had scrambled to make arrangements for our other children because we had been told that the appointment would last hours (bring a snack kind of visit!). Amazingly, we had been able to put things out of our minds off and on (the sick-house probably helped!). But, the day of the appointment was a different story. I couldn't help but replay all of the possible "what if" situations and it was killing me.
We get to the appointment, check in, and wait. Tommy was thankfully asleep and thus was very patient. We watch other kids come in, and I tried to picture in my mind what they were in for. Some had big metal patches, which I assumed was from an eye injury, some had big thick glasses, some had other development issues, and some had no obvious eye issues. We were finally called in by a sweet resident and went to a dimly lit examination room. She introduced herself, examined Tommy, put drops in his eyes to dilate them... and sent us back to the waiting room to let them dilate. She gave no indication of what could be wrong... and we weren't brave enough to ask any questions we didn't want the answers to. This is fairly amazing as we both like to be in-control and in-the-know of what is going on, so for both of us to be silent, you know we were scared. So we waited again, watching kids come and go. We discovered Angry Birds on my husband's smartphone (love it!) We waited some more. (Did I say we waited?) Finally, we were called back in to another room. These rooms all looked the same, big eye equipement chair, desk for the doctor, a kids movie playing on a big-screen TV, and these little dogs mounted on what seems like a motor high up on the wall. I am slightly fascinated by these little stuffed dogs because I have NO idea what they could be used for. I recognize most of the equipment (I can't tell you what much of it does, but I know it belongs in the eye doctor's office!), they still use that stupid little booklet to test depth perception. But those dogs? No idea.
We waited and waited and waited. Tommy was incredibly good during the whole visit- he barely fussed (only when he was hungry) and tolerated all the poking and prodding just fine. Finally the "attending" ophthalmologist came in, introduced himself, and examined Tommy. He was silent during his examination. I couldn't decide if I should be paranoid or relieved at his silence. (Remember, I'm still fairly newly post-partum and on pain killers, and we are both fairly sleep-deprived and stressed out.) He examines, writes a little note on Tommy's chart, puts on some funny piece of equipment on his head, making him look a little silly, then he examines and notes some more. FINALLY he was done and says "Well, he has a cataract" and then discusses treatment with us. He was so matter of fact and made it seem so simple and easy to say. Like he had no idea that this had been ripping us apart for so many days! Don't get me wrong, this man is great and brilliant and I have absolutely no complaints, it was just so... so anti-climactic after the build-up we had created for ourselves.
His treatment plan included surgery at 5-8 weeks old to remove the cataract by removing the lens. He would then fit a baby contact that we would have to put in and take out every week. (Contacts, in a baby?!) Once we got the contact fitted, we would patch the good eye to train the bad eye to see. He explained that babies need to learn to see, so catching this early was likely a better prognosis. (Thank-you to our stellar pediatrician!) He would also need glasses (bifocals) and would need surgery again at age 9 or 10 years once his eye was fully grown. (I guess it is an old-wives tale that you are born with eyes fully grown!) The ophthalmologist did tell us that his contact was big enough that he could not fully see the back of the eye, which meant that he couldn't tell us long-term prognosis for sure until he "got in there" to see. I asked him, since I needed to be sure "But, you are sure that this isn't retinoblastoma?" I could ALMOST see him chuckle- but he did confirm that Tommy did NOT have retinoblastoma. (Note: My husband remembers this slightly differently. He remembers him saying that he couldn't see completely into the back of the eye due to the size of the cataract, but didn't think that retinoblastoma was the cause of the leukocoria. I'd believe him if I were you, as I can't remember signing the consent for surgery but there my signature was on the day of the operation! I'm happy to rember the relief that I felt.) After that, nothing mattered. This treatment plan seems horrible to write out (and admittedly isn't super-easy) but it was such a relief! It wasn't cancer! We were HAPPY for a cataract. Never in my wildest dreams would I have predicted that I'd be happy for a baby of mine to go through surgery for "just a cataract." But we were. Perhaps those 4 agonizing days of waiting and wondering were all for the purpose of making us realize how incredibly fortunate we really are. This could have been so many bad things but it was "just a cataract" and we were thrilled!
Our ophthalmologist has an interesting name- on that felt very familiar to me- but how or why I couldn't put my finger on. About half-way through the visit it dawned on me- I know his daughter! In fact, I had precepted his daughter when she was a pharmacy student. Then came the dilemma, do I tell him that I know her? What if I am wrong? So, at the end of the visit (while he was writing his finally check-out stuff, I casually asked if his daughter was a pharmacist. I was right- she was! I told him how I knew her, and he lit up like any proud papa discussing his little girl! It was nice to see his "softer side" and it can't hurt to have a personal connection to the guy cutting into your son's eyes, right?
We left with surgery scheduled for his 5 week old birthday. We were instructed to contact a special supplemental insurance company to help pay for these contacts. Silly us thought that this was unnecessary, we had good insurance and didn't think we'd need that! Heck, my husband wears contacts and they are only a few hundred dollars a year! But that story is for another day... after all, we had some calls to make. Tommy had "just a cataract!" and we had to spread the great news.
