The Eye Exam

Sharon? Dr.Rhule will see you now...
I enter the small room with the leather covered tall back chair.  My eyes are dilated and the lights are turned to dim. This is my first exam with my new doctor. She will be looking for signs of diabetic retinopathy, a disease expected to attack vision in diabetic patients.

My diabetes is in good control and I have had no negative results in eight years of this twice-a-year exam. A compliant patient always, I have read the pre-exam paperwork and have dutifully worn no perfume or deodorant.  My cell phone has been off since I entered the building.

She knocks quietly at the door and enters, my chart in her hand. She makes little effort to exchange more than a perfunctory greeting.  I'm surprised and slightly taken aback that she is so unfriendly.  From recommendations, I had expected someone vivacious.  Not so, this lady is stand-offish.  She makes polite retorts to my efforts at pleasantries and then we both sit in quiet as she reads the chart.  She scoots her chair over to face me and swings a long arm of apparatus to cover my eyes. "Watch the chart" and the exam proceeds as I have learned to expect.

The opthomologist is looking for the first indications that my eyes are changing.. Deep at the back of my eye her magnifier is searching for broken blood vessels or perhaps a dark spot indicating a past break and the blood pool. These are tense moments as the doctor concentrates and I hold my breath, determined to make this experience pleasant for her and not subject her to any insult to her olfactory sensitivity.

She begins to speak, well...mutter. I can't discern her words.  Is she speaking to me? She's looking right at me, my eye,  and carrying on a cryptic conversation that seems to be groupings of words and stops, like sentences.  But, I can't make them out.  She's so close but my ears are failing to make sense of what she's saying. Her whispery voice rises in what must surely be a question.  "Sorry?", I say aloud, indicating this incomprehension is the fault of my hearing. She doesn't seem to notice me. More loudly I say, "Are you talking to me?"
"No," she replies, "I'm taking notes!"

Okay, then. This is her normal routine. I relax until the next clear word I make out is 'Mold'...Mold? She said it distinctly. Mold? My mind races. What could that be?  I've never heard of mold of the eye, or, on the eye, in the eye? Is it an acronym? M.O.L.D. What could that be? Maybe it means 'M' is old. An old break in a capillary? Again my mind wants to find the answers but my knowledge is lacking and this doctor is not forthcoming. Is this something that happens due to the rainy conditions?  Ridiculous, maybe. Mold? I decide I will definitely ask.

After the exam, she has the summation of her findings laying on top of the charts.  In the past 15 minutes I've watched her fill in the blanks on her computer screen, concentrating and very busy. I've seen her draw dots of different colors on a target-shaped depiction of the interior of my eye. She has continued to mutter and, I know by now, she is not talking to me. But, now she is...

"Looks good, Sharon.  Your diabetes has had no effect on your eyes to this point. In fact, I would be unable to distinguish a photo of your eye from that of a person without diabetes...It's good news!" Such good news, I almost forget to ask.

"Dr, Rhule, you mentioned mold during the exam.  Can you tell me more about that?"
"I did?", she looks puzzled.
"Yes, something about 'colored' and 'two'?"

She starts to laugh..."Moles!" she says when she stops giggling. "You have two moles.  No one ever told you that before? "No", I reply, "never even heard of moles in the eyes". (I'm imagining the blind pointy-nosed creatures with paddle paws.)

"Just like the moles on your skin, there are two moles in your right eye.  One is colorless which is benign and the other is dark and we'll watch it for changes that might indicate cancer."
"Oh." Then not mold!" And, our eyes meet and we both start giggling. Then, laughing out loud, we share one of those moments, those moments that change perceptions.