A little bit crazy

My mother and father both had glaucoma, and so my sister and I get our pressure checked regularly.

My father's was controlled by drops, but my mother had the misfortune of having been misdiagnosed by a trusted family opthamologist who said she had a cataract. Seeking a second opinion, she went to another doctor who told her she actually had glaucoma and that my mother, a painter, had already lost some of her peripheral vision (lawsuit followed, but the damage was done).

My optometrist did my regular exam this week. The pressure checked out fine. Then he took a photo of my inner eye to double-check and use for future reference. He showed me the photo, pointing out my optic nerve and my brain. I couldn't distinguish it very well, but I got the idea. Pretty cool.

That looked fine, too, he said, although it was close to a marker at which we would have to keep an eye out, so to speak, for glaucoma.

Merrily, I went my way, making an appointment for next Tuesday to do a contact lens recheck. Back home, I announced, "Hey, I saw my brain!"

This afternoon I went out for a while and came back to see a message late in the day from the doctor. He wanted me to call him to discuss the films he took.

I called him back, but he was gone for the day.

What the .....?

He leaves this at the end of the day when I can't get in touch with him when he knows my whole health history – not just my parents' glaucoma – and knows that I am supersensitive about everything? My heart skipped a beat.

I corralled Joe and told him the story.

"Great," said Nervous Nellie, a.k.a me, so named by my sorely missed wonderful nurse friend Vytas. "So what if my brain is about to pop out through my eyeballs or what if I really have advanced glaucoma and am beginning to lose my eyesight or what if....?"

Joe said to hold on, that if it was serious he would not just say casually to call back later, and that it was probably just a technicality or some other minor thing.

We went through several rounds of this before I finally gave it up ... sort of.

I still don't understand why a doctor would leave a message like that when he knows I can't get ahold of him and when he also knows I'll see him next week anyway.

I guess I'll find out when I call on Monday.