Two weeks before Christmas we got the second best news we've ever heard concerning Cal's eye. The best news was when the specialist in Long Island told us that Cal's retina was not detached and that he could fix
it. A couple weeks before that we had been told that his retina was detached,
that he would never see, and that most likely his eye would die and have to be
extracted, resulting in problems with his skull developing correctly as he
grew. You can imagine the mercurial emotions Brian and I felt during that time.
I wanted to punch the retina specialist in Washington in the face for his misdiagnosis
and I wanted to make out with the one in New York.
It turned out that the doctors knew each other and the New
York doctor made a call to the Washington doctor and in the end, despite my
anger at him, we still see the first doctor, who has since proven to be
apologetic about his mistake and awesome in general. He's actually one of the
best retina guys in Washington. I again cannot stress enough the importance of
getting a second opinion. Cal's PHPV is so rare that only a handful of doctors
in the entire country specialize in it and the one we found in New York has
done extensive research on the condition. Let me tell you, that man will get a
Christmas card from here on out, and all of our referrals. He assured us that
the Washington doctor's mistake was an honest one, and one many doctors would
make.
Fast forward through more surgeries and contacts and
patching and eye drops. In July of this year Cal's pediatric ophthalmologist
tested his vision and said he couldn't see well at all and was grim about his
chances of ever seeing better. She's the one who originally prescribed his
contact strength when he was five months old. We weren't happy about that news and
her lack of curiosity for what he actually could see, and so we saw yet another
ophthalmologist in August, who found that Cal was farsighted in his good eye
and he prescribed Cal's glasses.
We saw yet another pediatric ophthalmologist
simply for convenience sake because this guy didn't operate in the same
hospital as our retina guy and we didn't want to have to put Cal under
anesthesia twice when both investigative exams could be done at one time by two
doctors. She is the wife of Cal’s retina specialist-- the guy who
misdiagnosed him. She is awesome. When he was under anesthesia she found that
Cal needed a much weaker contact prescription than what he had. So, two weeks
before Christmas she did a vision test on Cal with the new strength. Usually
they use images instead of letters to test young children's sight. She covered
his good eye, turned on a screen across the room with a letter on it, and
reached for the button to turn on the images instead of letters. Cal
immediately blurted out, "T." She was surprised and said, "You
know your letters!" Yep.
She switched screens to smaller and smaller letters and we
both looked at each other in amazement as he kept saying them correctly. This
screen was ten feet across the room! With his stronger prescription he couldn't
see nearly that far-- it must have blurred his vision at longer distances. Of
course I got goose bumps and the doctor, who knew of her husband's misdiagnosis
and of Cal's amazing tale thus far, made me like her even more with her
excitement. She said she couldn't wait to tell her husband and that he would be
so happy to hear it. It kind of made me want to invite them both to our gingerbread
party, but maybe I'll wait until next year for that.
So that's the happy update on Cal's vision. Yay!
Lookin' good. Seein' well! |
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