Not the Most Gentle Bedside Manner…

That’s how I would describe the ophthalmologist I visited this afternoon. Which isn’t a good descriptor for someone who works with eyes.

For the past several days my right eye has burned and my vision has been a little bit blurry. I had LASIK eye surgery in October and am overly sensitive about the state of my eyes. I don’t want to go blind. I also don’t want to visit a doctor that I can’t speak to. The former fear won out.

I asked Little Kim for a recommendation for an eye doctor. He told me to come to the school at 2 and he would take me. Which is very kind, but I saw the potential for problems. I think Little Kim has good intentions, but he’s not the best translator. And to ask him to translate a medical condition – see where I’m going with this?

At 2, we went to the ophthalmologist’s office. We sat in the lobby and he tried to explain the game show that was on the tv. Something about someone calling all of his friends and saying, “Come here now.” But someone is a star. Maybe the caller? Maybe a friend? Then there are many women with silver pompoms. I never understood the concept. This wasn’t making me feel any better about my upcoming conversation with the ophthalmologist.

I was called into the office. The doctor was a small man who reminded me of a gyroscope. In perpetual motion. I said hello and he looked me up and down then laughed. First I sat in one chair. What’s the problem? I explained to Little Kim, he said something to the ophthalmologist. The ophthalmologist said something back. I looked expectantly at Little Kim. “Use eye drops.” I do. Here they are (I had brought them with me in anticipation of this question). The ophthalmologist disappeared. He came back with some individual eye drop samples, like what I used in the States, but can’t find here. Little Kim gave them to me and said, ‘Here, he give to you. They bad.” What? Why are you giving me these to use if they are bad? I looked for an expiration date. “No. Not bad. Good. But expensive. So he don’t buy.” Okay.

He looked at my eyes through one machine. Then he motioned me to another chair and had me read an eye chart (with numbers, not letters). But, should I say the numbers in Korean or English? And which counting system do I use if I say Korean numbers? Il, ee, sam, sa or hanna, tul, set, net? Oh, my god. I can’t remember the word for 6. I turned to Little Kim. He said, “Read numbers. English okay.” Okay. A Korean Vanna White appeared with a long pointer. Starting with the big numbers, moving down. Towards the bottom I had trouble. I squirmed in my seat, turned my head this way and that, guessing. She pointed to one row of numbers. “Mola-yo.” I don’t know. She continued to the next row. “Mola-yo.” I still don’t know, because you’re pointing at a row that is even smaller than the previous one. The next row. “Mola-yo.” Oooooh. As long as I made a sound, she thought I was answering. That I could see the numbers. I turned to Little Kim. “I can’t see those last lines.” Okay, okay, okay.

Back to the first chair, an office chair on wheels. I sat down, the ophthalmologist asked for my hand. My hand? He put it in front of a machine and poofs! of air came out. Then he put my eye there. Each time he shot air at my eyes it stung incredibly. After each poof! I shut my eyes tightly and tried to get them to water. While I had my eyes shut he came around and spun my chair around. I had my back to the machine now. He got very, very, very close to me. He pointed straight ahead. I looked. He tugged on my eyelid and shone a bright light in my eyes. He grunted and pointed another direction. This continued for a few minutes. Ow, ow, ow. Then he went back to his chair.

He started speaking. And speaking. And speaking. For several minutes, that felt like an eternity. He wrote a few optical terms in English on a notepad: cornea, retina, photophobia, blurriness. He stopped. Little Kim turned to me. “Okay, let’s go.” Wait. Aren’t you going to tell me what he just said? “Yes. Lobby.” So we went to the lobby. “He said no big problem. Use drops for 3-4 days and if still problem, come back. Test again.” Wait a minute. I’m using drops now. Regularly. And the problem has been going on for almost a week. So how will anything be different in 3-4 days? “Wait here.” He went back to the doctor. Talk, talk, talk. Back to me. “Different test. Drops in your eyes. Check inside. Very not watching 8 hours.” Ahhhhhhh. He wants to dilate my eyes to do other tests, but not today. Okay.

As we were walking to the elevator, Little Kim said, “You. In there. Look so afraid. No problem. Don’t worry.” Yes, I guess you’re right. But it’s scary to have someone poking at you, blinding you with a bright light, and saying things you can’t understand.