THE EYE HOSPITAL

So today, is the day I am to go to the hospital? Dreading it for a week now. I hate the feelings of hospitals. I don’t like the memories of early diagnosis as my poor Mum ended up in floods of tears every time we came away. I still feel sick to the stomach and really really have a blanket of dread when I enter a hospital for anything let alone for my eyes.

 

The taxi driver arrived, almost on time; luckily I booked a taxi early. When we got there, he pulled up outside the main entrance as I asked him to do. Then I turned to him and asked how much? He told me £8.10. I paid him, a £20 note. He laughed and said

“I will give you a ten pound note, honest, it’s a ten!”

OK, so he found this humorous?

Perhaps I should admit at this stage in life, my humour is rather weak.

I’m as flat as an ironing board.

Then I shamefully asked him if he would guide me to the reception? He grumbled, he was joking, I think. And after moaning, he said he would. But and wait for this?

He didn’t do toilet training?

Say what? Gets better. He told me his wife was a “Carer” and you had to have a good sense of humour for that?

Oh my God.

I got in the hospital and that ignorant fool went back to his car.

The receptionist guided me and she was fine. I went to the eye clinic. Waited only five minutes. Sitting with old and young people, but everyone had a partner with them. I missed my Mum so much. I felt like a sore finger, sticking out.

 

A nurse called my name. I thought, oh here we go; now I have to find her, but she was fine and came to me. She told me she would perform a vision test. I knew I would fail that.

I didn’t let my thoughts down.

She told me to look straight. Hmm.

Asked if I could see the light.

Em, nope?

This is why I said I had no sight.

But for this awful blur.

She sent me out. I sat at a different place. A baby with the vocabulary of one word kept looking up at me saying

“Hiya

Well on the eleventh Hiya, I thought, pick your child up? I mean, an eye hospital is not the place for a baby to be crawling around?

I felt sad for the baby; I hoped it was for something trivial.

Anyway, room number two. I saw another nurse, not sure what she was for, but she read to herself my papers and guided me back out.

Waiting again. Room number three. This time I saw the Doctor.

She was not much use, calm, depressive and Irish, like my bird, right?

She looked at my eyes, and then told me she would send me for a C A T scan and she would put those awful orange drops in and my eyes would glow in the dark and go fiery through the day.

 

Out of the room, and into room 4 some minutes later.

Room four was my scan, waited outside in the waiting room again and then back into see the Doctor. She told me

1. I had the worst RP possible as in my entire retina was black.
2.  I had calcium on my retina
3. I had pockets of fluid
4.  I had sticky eye lashes with tears and
5.  I had a Sist. She also told me she didn’t know what kind of RP I had; I would have to be referred to another hospital. With me being adopted, she didn’t think they would be able to find out? But she wasn’t sure. As for future treatment? Hmm. She didn’t know. The other hospital would tell me. Yeah, right I’m sorry, but I have no faith. So I came away, with tablets to clear the blur. She said they may work. The sist, may, go away. The calcium is nothing to worry about. That will never go. So now I wait for another appointment. 
6.