The eyes of the monster

Regular readers may know that I have had doublevision ever since my last big relapse in 2008. Every time I look left I see double. Looking straight ahead I’m fine and looking to the right, results in a textbook case of nystagmus (shaky eyes).

Doublevision is the reason I saw my GP in the first place. It coincided with a lot of other symptoms I was experiencing at the time, but I think if I’d had a severe case of tingly hands and feet or fatigue, I’d have probably let it ride. Doublevision is a more concrete sign that something somewhere is well and truly not right.

Back in 2009, I went to see my local orthoptist at my hometown hospital, to see if I could get some corrective prism lenses. Despite doing various tests all afternoon, and despite the fact that I only wanted lenses for specific situations, I was turned down. Apparently my 20/20 eyesight was too good to ruin with lenses, albeit plain glass ones.

At the time, it affected me more than I had expected because I was very surprised 100 yards or so later down the road to find myself suddenly bursting into tears.

I think this is the one and only time I have ever been truly upset about having MS.

But it’s the helplessness of the situation that does it… Yes it’s being turned down for something small that could considerably improve my quality of life and yes, it’s being patronised by a grinning medic demonstrating how to turn my whole head if I want to look left. But the one thing that really bugs me is that it’s always there and it’s always the same and I’ve had to get used to it whether I like it or not.

Today, I feel slightly different to how I did yesterday. I was more fatigued yesterday, and I was clumsier. My fingertips were more tingly and I had a bit of pain in my legs which I don’t have, so far, today. On the other hand, I have been having some muscle cramps today that I didn’t have yesterday. I find I have to take my MS on a day to day basis. Over time, it’s been more or less the same, but the symptoms ebb and flow subtly all the time.

The doublevision doesn’t do this. There’s been some permanent damage somewhere in my brain stem, so that when I look to the left there’s always the same displacement.

I’m looking directly into the eyes of the monster.

It reminds me how futile it all is and how helpless I am. The doublevision is a constant reminder of how my life has irreversibly changed.

Anyway, moving on two and a half years, I brought the orthoptics experience up with my non-plussed neurologist at our yearly meeting. “Would you like a second opinion?” He asked.

“Oh! Erm… yes please!”

“With our guys or the guys at [your hospital]?”

“Definitely your guys.”

“OK, I’ll write them a letter and we’ll get you seen.”

Four weeks later and I arrived at the eye clinic at Big City Hospital expecting to fight my case. I had drilled myself with the things I wanted to say about how prism lenses would make a difference when driving, or at the supermarket, or in meetings, or watching late night telly, and so on.

My first surprise was that I turned up 20 minutes early and was seen straight away.

The second surprise was the opening gambit from the orthoptist: “OK! Please take a seat. Today we’ll look at your eye movements. We’ll get you to look through some lenses. I’ll take some measurements and we’ll consider some treatment options for you. But today we should get you fitted out with some prism lenses to take away with you.”

Wow!

“Are you sure?” I filled him in on my previous experience including the turning my head to the left demo, how they had made me feel and how I was told it would strain my eyes and so on.”

He just shook his head and smiled in an ‘absolute nonsense’ kind of way. “No, that’s not true, we’ll try you out with some prisms.”

After that we got on like a house on fire. I learnt a bit about eye physiology as I had lens after lens passed in front of my left eye and he explained about the muscles that control my eye movements.

The upshot of it all was that I have some rather lovely NHS specs with prisms on the left lens which improve the doublevision only slightly in terms of the field of single vision, but massively in terms of  everyday practicalities and, perhaps more importantly, morale.

After my appointment, the morning sky looked a brilliant blue, the sun shone off the windows of the hospital towering above me and everything seemed different. I had been listened to and I had the result I wanted without having to battle for it. The world was a better place and again, I felt a little emotional.

That was all about six weeks ago. I have a follow up appointment this Tuesday followed directly by a meeting with an eye surgeon to explore my options (I’m thinking that these options will involve detaching and reconnecting eye muscles). Of course I have a whole raft of questions I need answers to, if I’m to go down that route, but I’ll keep you updated with whatever happens.

I might be staring into the eyes of the monster, but this time it feels like I’m staring it out.

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3 thoughts on “The eyes of the monster

  1. fantastic news. I know this isn’t quite the postcode lottery, and in the main I think the NHS is amazing, but it’s astonishing the kind of variations in care you get. My experience in Nottingham has mainly been fantastic, with helpful friendly neurologists in a national centre of excellence, and brilliant MS Nurses. My brother, just down the road in Northampton, has had a completely different experience. He’s never met an MS Nurse, for starters, and his care is in the hands of a drug company nurse from the drug he chose to inject. It’s scary, isn’t it? So pleased for you though.

  2. Hi – thanks for the message. So your brother has MS too? That’s bad luck, but good you have someone close who you knows what you’re on about, I guess.
    I wasn’t going to mention hospitals in the post, but the Big City Hospital is Sheffield Hallamshire and I can’t fault anyone (yet) that has been involved with my care there, except for the first neurologist who diagnosed me. The hospital itself is showing it’s age but it’s always a pleasure to go there. My local hospital, I’ll avoid at all cost.
    I’m surprised by your brother’s situation, though. I bet he relies on his GP quite heavily.

  3. I think it’s all relative. Nottingham happens to be a national centre of excellence for neurology, but, as my neurologist said to me, you wouldn’t want to be epileptic here….. postcode lottery. I think my brother gets decent care (and he’s been unluckier than me in how many relapses he’s had and how badly they’ve affected him) but in comparison with what I get, it’s just not quite as good. Actually, he got diagnosed much faster than me – at least in part because of me, that 1 in 1000 shot becomes 1 in 100 if you have a direct relative with the condition apparently….

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