Yesterday was my appointment at the local hospital for my annual eye check-up. The reason I have this is because, some years ago, the optician discovered that I have high intraocular pressure and might have glaucoma. Subsequent specialists have decided that there is an increase in cupping of the optic nerve but that this is a congenital problem rather than an indication of glaucoma and indeed, I always get a high score on my field tests. But like Daphne, I have to have drops in my eyes so that they can examine them properly and always end up weeping copiously as a result and feeling 'a right idiot' whilst doing it. I tend to make a mess of the 'puffy air' test too, as I always manage to close my eye just before the puff of air hits it and this has been known to cause ill-concealed irritation to the doctor concerned.
This time, however, it wasn't a 'puffy air' test but a 'beam of blue light' test and the doc managed to examine the back of my eyes without the usual pupil-dilating drops but, to make up for this, he measured the thickness of the cornea, which seemed to involve prodding them with a stick, although, as I had been given the anaesthetic drops beforehand, I didn't feel too much beyond an irrisistible urge to close my eyes when he was telling me to keep them open and look at one of his ears. Confused? You should be... I know, all these technical terms are hard going.
The doctor who saw me introduced himself as a trainee consultant, which I established meant that he was a registrar.
"Oh, I've got one of those!" I said.
Well, actually I didn't but I did do the 'proud parent' routine and told him about Elder Daughter. "She's specialising in Care of the Elderly," I said, "And I'm encouraging her in that so that she can look after me in my old age."
"Forward planning," he said, " A good idea."
Anyway, I got away with not having to start on eye drops this time but I have to go back again in six months.
Keith picked me up when I had finished.
"So," he enquired, "Can you still see a field?"