I hadn’t noticed any crossing prior to the surgery, but it was explained to me that this is what would happen if they didn’t operate. What my young brain processed was that my inner eye muscles were too strong and would ultimately result in me becoming cross-eyed, and that’s why they had to do the surgery. No-one really told me what was going to happen in surgery-it was something vague like ‘stretching the muscles on the inside of the eyes to match the strength of the muscles on the outside of the eyes’. I doubt I was part of that discussion, but as a kid of 11 or 12, that’s not surprising. I’m sure there were other tests too, but I clearly remember putting that damned bird in the cage and it jumping out again!Īfter all these tests, someone at some point said I needed to have an eye operation. My eyes couldn’t settle and hold that image, and I’d have to do it again. I’d do that, the orthoptist would record the result, and then seconds later, the bird would be outside the cage again WITHOUT ME TOUCHING THE CONTROLS. combining the two images my eyes were seeing into one). I had to hold onto some controls and adjust them until the bird was in the cage (i.e. Everything was black except for lit outline images of a distant bird and a cage-possibly one image for the left eye and one for the right, though I can’t recall the details. Why do I remember those visits? Because, among other things, I had to put birds in cages and they kept jumping out! Let me explain… One of the instruments the orthoptist used at that time was something that enclosed your head and that you peered into. I can’t recall much of which specialists I saw or what was discussed, but I clearly remember having several sessions with an orthoptist. It seemed like it went on for months, but as a kid you have no sense of time, so it might have only been a few weeks or even just a couple of visits. And so began the long trek to and from Perth, every Tuesday I think. Whoever I saw said that he couldn’t do much for me until I’d seen a specialist (I presume an ophthalmologist). We lived a good hour and half’s drive from Perth, which is where the optician that my parents and grandparents used had his rooms. She talked with my usual teacher and realised that my eyes might need checking.
Mum says she’s pretty sure that I complained about getting into trouble at school (I NEVER got into trouble… yeah, I was that kid) and asked me why. My memory of this is a little hazy, but it seems there was a relief teacher and I’d left my seat to go closer to the blackboard to read what was on it and I got growled at. The reason I mention my class position is that one of my teachers in the latter years of primary school sat the ‘bright kids’ at the back of the room, where we could get on with our work relatively unsupervised while he kept a close eye on the ‘naughty kids’ that he seated at the front of the classroom. At school, my best friend and I vied for first and second spot in the class throughout our entire primary school lives, and fittingly, after such a long rivalry, shared equal dux of the school at the end of Grade 7, our final year of primary school. Everyone in the town knew pretty much everyone else, and because we were the only bakers in town, my family knew everybody, including all the teachers. I was raised in a small Western Australian country town. Please see an optician or eye specialist for anything to do with your eyes. I am NOT involved in the medical profession, and this is NOT a medical column.
I wrote it to document my life living with this eye condition, and to provide background information to my ophthalmologist. Warning: Very long post, and likely only relevant to those with an eye condition called ‘strabismus’.
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