This is a fifth in a series of posts on my odyssey with a dilated eye. I’ve tagged all the posts in the series here.
It’s funny how one problem can seem like a big deal, until another problem comes along and pushes the first problem onto the backburner. That’s especially true when the second problem involves pain and lost sleep.
What had started out as a frustrating cosmetic problem — a blind eye that inexplicably dilated — had grown into a painful, puffy, bloodshot eye.
But now I had hope, in the form of four drugs:
As I understood it, the first two drops were designed to lower the eye pressure (obviously important), the third drop was designed to reduce inflammation, and the fourth drop was designed to move the muscles in my eye.
The first two arrived the day after my doctor’s visit. Those 24 hours or so between the two events were both uncomfortable and hopeful, because the pain from the eye was there, but there was also hope that these new drugs would help to alleviate that pain. Helpfully, I slept through the night, something that had not happened the day before.
One problem with being blind in an eye: it’s rather hard to put eyedrops in that eye. Enter my wife, who graciously agreed to put the drops in. (I’ve since tried one of the drops myself using a selfie camera on a phone, and it was … well, close, but not as good as the wife.)
So my wife put the drops in, and the results were swift. The first drop ended the pain almost immediately, and the second one did a step better. Within 30 minutes the red in my eyes was nearly gone. My eye still liked an 8-ball without the number, but I could function again.
All that was left now was to get the remaining two eyedrops. And that’s where things got strange.
Now, I should say that I have very little experience with prescriptions. I’ve (thankfully) had only a few in my life, so I didn’t know how things work behind the scenes, other than the fact that my doctor prescribes things and my pharmacy prepares them. It had been that way with the pilocarpine, and with the first two drugs.
But with the remaining two drugs — the Prednisolone and Atropine — the drugs weren’t processing. They were showing up on the dashboard of my online account with the pharmacy, but they were showing that they weren’t being filled.
So I called the pharmacy on Saturday. We’re waiting for the doctor’s instructions, they said.
So I called the ophthalmologist’s office on Monday and left a message. No response.
And then I called the ophthalmologist’s office on Wednesday and left another message. No response.
Friday I had an appointment with an optometrist under my ophthalmologist — the same one I’d seen the Friday before — so I planned to talk about it in person. Something was wrong, and I needed to figure out what it was … except that, as if by magic, my two drops suddenly started processing Friday morning.
The optometrist was at a loss as to what happened. There were no records on his end of any problems or any contact from the pharmacy. Was it the doctor’s office? The pharmacy? Gremlins? I don’t know.
The good news, though, is that the two drugs I were using had dropped the pressure in my eye. What was an eye pressure of 52 (seriously bad) was now 28 (just normal bad). And with the prospect of finally getting the remaining two drugs, maybe things might get better. Maybe, the doctor said, your iris would contract.
My next appointment was scheduled for one week later.