December 12, 2009
Explanations
So, after digesting the news ourselves, the next step was to tell everyone - family, friends, preschool teachers, etc. It was so interesting to watch how differently people reacted. Some went straight to reassuring mode, so much so that it seemed at times they were trying to gloss over the fact that there was a problem at all. Some (and this was much appreciated) threw themselves into trying to help Abby any way they could.
We wound up doing a lot of research, and were so glad to be introduced to the tool PubMed, where the National Institutes of Health makes publicly available articles from medical and other scholarly journals. Unfortunately, the articles on amblyopia weren't as numerous as we had hoped. And, in every single study, Abby's condition in her bad eye (20/400) was the worst included in the study and was in the group which made the least amount of progress. What we found was pretty much what the ophthalmologist had told us - patching is still the one and only treatment widely available. There was one doctor at Baylor studying PRK (laser surgery) for amlyopic children in 2006, but the surgery had only been performed in about 118 kids. We plan to ask the ophthalmologist about this at our next visit, but I'm sure he won't recommend it.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Diagnosis
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Today we took our 4-year-old daughter to the ophthalmologist - a step recommended by our pediatrician, who, at Abby's annual checkup, had noticed something amiss in Abby's eyes.
We arrived at the ophthalmologist's office about 15 minutes early. They had a movie playing and lollipops available, so the appointment started off pleasantly, as far as our daughter was concerned. When they took us into the back, the first thing they did was sit her in front of the machine. The nurse (PA?) told her they were taking pictures of her eyes. Still, it seemed to be going well.
It was when we got into the exam room that the downward spiral started. With each test that required covering her right eye, it became apparent even to non-experts such as my husband and myself that something was terribly, utterly, uncontrollably wrong. When our daughter failed to see any of the 3-D images, even with both eyes uncovered and the 3-D glasses on, I started to guess how bad it might be. And when a true eyepatch was placed over her right eye, and she could not see the letter E that was 2 inches from her face, the idea of what we were up against really hit me.
The nurse put the dilating drops into Abby's eyes and sent us back into the waiting room for 45 minutes. Of course, Kip and I had nothing to talk about except what we had noticed during the exam. Thankfully, the movie was still playing and Abby was blissfully oblivious to what was going on in our minds.
Eventually, they called us back into the exam room, and this time, the ophthalmologist himself tested Abby's eyes. He told us it was a very severe case of amblyopia, or lazy eye. Her left eye simply was not doing its job, and left untreated, would lose all vision completely. He explained that we would have to undertake a very aggressive patching program with her. He tried his best to lay out for us how difficult the coming year(s) would be, but we were so shocked by this news that almost none of what he said really sunk in. I cried all the way home.
Today we took our 4-year-old daughter to the ophthalmologist - a step recommended by our pediatrician, who, at Abby's annual checkup, had noticed something amiss in Abby's eyes.
We arrived at the ophthalmologist's office about 15 minutes early. They had a movie playing and lollipops available, so the appointment started off pleasantly, as far as our daughter was concerned. When they took us into the back, the first thing they did was sit her in front of the machine. The nurse (PA?) told her they were taking pictures of her eyes. Still, it seemed to be going well.
It was when we got into the exam room that the downward spiral started. With each test that required covering her right eye, it became apparent even to non-experts such as my husband and myself that something was terribly, utterly, uncontrollably wrong. When our daughter failed to see any of the 3-D images, even with both eyes uncovered and the 3-D glasses on, I started to guess how bad it might be. And when a true eyepatch was placed over her right eye, and she could not see the letter E that was 2 inches from her face, the idea of what we were up against really hit me.
The nurse put the dilating drops into Abby's eyes and sent us back into the waiting room for 45 minutes. Of course, Kip and I had nothing to talk about except what we had noticed during the exam. Thankfully, the movie was still playing and Abby was blissfully oblivious to what was going on in our minds.
Eventually, they called us back into the exam room, and this time, the ophthalmologist himself tested Abby's eyes. He told us it was a very severe case of amblyopia, or lazy eye. Her left eye simply was not doing its job, and left untreated, would lose all vision completely. He explained that we would have to undertake a very aggressive patching program with her. He tried his best to lay out for us how difficult the coming year(s) would be, but we were so shocked by this news that almost none of what he said really sunk in. I cried all the way home.
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