Anthony’s story

On the whole I feel very lucky, as I know many others will have much bigger issues than me. Losing your sight must be devastating so I count my blessings.

My eye story started on 1 April 1954 when I was a couple of months short of my sixth birthday. I climbed up on to the shed roof and slid off. It was such fun, I did it again. However, this time I pitched forward when my feet hit the ground, and a dead plant stalk pierced the skin just under my right eye and went in behind it. Mum took me to St Paul’s eye hospital in Liverpool and I can remember waiting to be seen for hours, and Mum being totally fed up. I was finally admitted for observation and put to bed. I was given a bottle to pee into but the concept was so alien that I managed to wet myself and the bed, but just had to lie in it until it dried. I was let out the next day as the eye worked and there didn’t seem to be any ill effects. 

Fast forward to the late 1950s when I was away at school in Oxford and a big cyst filled up with pus under my right eye. I went into the John Radcliffe hospital and was given a general anaesthetic to have it drained and cut away. This happened three times in fairly quick succession. Admission was on a Friday morning, and I remember waking up from the anaesthetic in the early hours of Saturday with a raging thirst. The nurse would bring a full glass of water but would only allow a few sips. If I did manage to gulp more, I was promptly sick. I was given penicillin injections into my buttock and the nurses would walk me up and down the ward to try and lessen the pain. I was usually discharged on a Monday morning but the third time I was sick in the lift and they decided to keep me in, much to my dismay. I then had three more operations, one a week, to try and clear out the foreign bodies and bits behind my right eye. I don’t remember much about the food, but we always had bread and jam for tea. No spread – just bread and jam. 

As a result of the operations, the muscles in my right eye were weakened and I can’t lift it up very well to see straight ahead. My brain adjusted very quickly to me seeing double and suppressed the sight in my right eye. It sees movement on my right side but if I want to look at something over my right shoulder, I have to shut my left eye to make it focus. I usually shut my right eye when reading. Funnily enough, when I go into a dark room, the right eye takes over automatically, presumably as the pupil aperture is already wider because it wasn’t doing anything in the daylight.  

Fast forward again to the early 1970s. Driving down a motorway, I thought I ought to get my eyes tested for driving. I was prescribed glasses which I kept in the car for a few years until I needed them all the time. 

In the early 1990s, the optician thought he could see an issue. I went to my GP and was referred onward to an hospital ophthalmic clinic – that’s quick to type, but I actually waited about two years to be seen in the hospital. It was then that I was told I had glaucoma. I was immediately put on Timoptol, twice a day in both eyes and told to always carry on with the drops. I was moved on to Betagan but these irritated my eyelids so I was prescribed Latanoprost instead, which I have used once a day (at bedtime) ever since. I also use eye gel (Carbomer) in both eyes just before I put the light out, otherwise my eyes are painful in the morning. I’ve had blepharitis on a few occasions but washing with baby shampoo sorts that out. I’ve been seen at the clinic every six months or so since, though this has understandably been interrupted by COVID-19. Sometimes I have field tests, sometimes the consultant just peers into my eyes and checks things like my pressures. The field test is a nightmare for my right eye as I can’t lift it up to see the light or diamond straight ahead. They won’t let me move my forehead away from the bar so that I can look horizontally. I also have to hold my left eye closed to make the right eye work, but the right eye is so unused to working for more than a few seconds that it gets tired very quickly, and everything goes fuzzy and blurry. Then they try to take a “photo”, of the retina I assume. Again, I can’t lift the right eye to see the green cross so that always fails. I can’t understand why manufacturers of these machines can’t adapt them for patients with issues with eye muscles, so the focus isn’t always straight ahead. I can’t be the only one with this sort of issue!  

I saw a consultant recently who mentioned Ocular Hyper Tension, so I’m left hovering between that and glaucoma. I’m very happy that the NHS keeps seeing me and I’m reassured my problem is being monitored regularly, but I sometimes find it difficult to understand what some of the consultants say, which discourages me from asking questions. So, even after more than 25 years, I can’t tell you what type of glaucoma I have. My optician tells me my eyesight is fine to drive and I have informed the DVLA of the situation.  

One other thing is that at 73 years old, I have a bag under my left eye, like a lot of us oldies, but with the operations on my right eye, there isn’t one there. However, wearing glasses, I’m not sure anybody notices.  

On the whole I feel very lucky, as I know many others will have much bigger issues than me. Losing your sight must be devastating so I count my blessings.

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