A spot

Saturday, November 1, 2025

I sat down in the chair. The optometrist asked what was going on.

“I have a shiny spot on my left eye on the left side. It started yesterday.” (Keith reminded me it started on Thursday after I got home)

He gave me the paddle and I covered my left eye. I read the bottom line. I covered my right eye and all the letter disappeared. Huh. I hadn’t realized that was going to happen. I looked through circles. He peered in my eye with a helmet from Honey I Shrunk the Kids on. Lights glared. I looked up and down and sideways.

He said he was going to dilate my eyes. “UM!” my brain said, “I don’t do eye drops. Does this involve eye drops?” He said to lean my head back. My brain was having a serious talk with itself at this point. Weren’t we going to have some getting ready time? Would there be no breathing exercises or promises of treats afterward.

DROP! DROP!

Apparently not. The liquid burned like all eye drops and I thought of how great I was doing. Just doing the thing like the whole of me wasn’t falling apart. Wow, I was amazing.

He looked in my eyes and said to tip back again.

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?

I had no idea this would be repeated. I tricked my whole self into relaxing, into believing he was just going to look at my eyes from above.

DROP! DROP!

Gvvvvvvd. Ooof. Ack. I do not care for this, but there is a spot in my eye and I want to do the things. He said to sit with my eyes closed. I could hear him clicking occassionally on his computer. I assumed he was doing internet research on shiny spot in your eye. I could hear the helper lady just outside doing someone else’s pre-check – puffing air into their eyes.

It was surprising how hard it was to keep my eyes closed. It wasn’t hard, but it was odd just sitting there. He started writing something. I wanted to read it. It was probably about me. He asked for my phone number. I listened to people talking about insurance out in the main area.

He said to open my eyes. He looked in with lots of lights. He said tip my head back again. I felt defeated. Three times!? What was this madness? Drop? Drop? I felt nothing. WTAH? I want that kind the first-time next time.

I sat with my eyes closed again for a while. It wasn’t hard, but it was hard. The people on the other side of the door seemed to be so audible that I thought the door must be open. I started to look, then remembered to keep my eyes closed. How to forget that when that is all you are doing?

When I was officially dilated, he put the Honey I Shrunk the Kids helmet on again, held up a circle of light right at my eye, and looked. I moved my eye ever direction. He tapped on my head to let me know where to go. The dilation was so weird and the light was so bright I really didn’t think I knew where I was looking, but he seemed to think it was good.

He rescanned the back of my eye again. He looked at a big differently colored spot on the picture and said it looked like my retina was coming up. He wrote and wrote and wrote. He said he was going to refer me to the retinal specialist place. He said they would call on Monday, but maybe I would want to call tomorrow to see if they had weekend emergency people working.

Donna and Michael were here when I got home. Huzzah! They came for Keith’s concert tomorrow. They are so supportive and it is so appreciated. They all read up detached retina and said CALL NOW. I called now. The recording said if you are having a retinal emergency, press one. I hung up. I went back to them and asked if I was having a retinal emergency. They said press one. I did. The emergency on-call guy said if the other guy didn’t say it was detached, I should call back at 7am Monday morning and get scheduled to be seen.

Okay.

The internet says you can’t fly if you have a detached retina fixed. That is going to be a BIG problem. Or not. Fingers crossed.