Seema Boesky

The Best Medicine


Before reading this column, please know that I’m paying my publisher for the privilege of writing it. I am using you, the reader, as my therapist to relieve recent stress.

For ages I’ve enjoyed excellent health. Aside from two hip replacements, carpal tunnel fixes, and voluntary nips and tucks, it’s been smooth sailing. Could the road ahead be turning bumpy?

Watching television recently, a friend pointed out a Maltese dashing across my 52-inch screen, while my own Maltese, Sashi, chased it. Even after repeated rewinds, I couldn’t see it. My left eye had been irritating me, so I covered the right one and saw everything as a blur.

Flashbacks of two near-misses on the highway last week—could giving the other drivers the finger have been a mistake? It is disconcerting too, that lately spots on my clothing are appearing only after leaving home! In daylight, yesterday’s telltale meals are evident on today’s outfit!

Also mildly troubling is a vague recollection from years’ past. A diagnosis of an eye condition I couldn’t pronounce, let alone understand. A doctor claimed I had a case of something only dark-skinned people living in tropical climates get. “Don’t worry, since you’re fair skinned and not a sun worshipper, it won’t progress far enough to pose a problem,” he said at the time.

I just had an annual eye exam with perfect results, but reassurance was needed now. I settled into the examining chair and explained, “It isn’t the fact that I can’t see dogs on television, or dirty clothes that worries me. My fear is that I won’t be able to apply my makeup!”

“Relax,” soothed my doctor, “I’m sure you’re fine.”

As I miserably failed the eye test, he shook his head.

“PTERYGIUM!” he exclaimed. (In case you were wondering, it’s pronounced “te-ri-jee-uhm”). It was that dreaded word from years back. “Veins in your left eye are creating scar tissue that is growing into your cornea, causing blindness. With immediate treatment your sight can be restored.” Poof, my fair-skinned advantage had just disappeared!

I researched pterygium and looked for the best doctors to assess my options. After meeting with three highly educated surgeons affiliated with the best hospitals, I surprised myself by making a quick, easy decision. With seemingly equal skills and smarts, it came down to my comfort with and confidence in the doctor.

Sitting across from Dr. First Choice, I posed my most relevant questions:

“What is my worst case scenario?”

“A cornea transplant,” he answered.

I hated this answer.

“Could this be life threatening?”

“With anesthesia there is always that risk.”

Yikes, another bad response!

My desire for information was waning, so why didn’t I quit while I was ahead? His next reply was a doozy: “I hope you use glue. I read that glue, instead of stitches, results in fewer recurrences, plus it negates the experience of painfully removing them.”

“As head of the Cornea Transplant Organization, we don’t use glue, and for good reason. Glue is made from cows, and I wouldn’t risk you waking up with Mad Cow disease!”

I left his office contemplating suicide or, better yet, escaping. Would I purchase a one-way ticket to someplace unknown and hide? Anything was better than immediate eye surgery.

Tomorrow morning, either I travel to parts unknown, or to the Manhattan Eye, Ear and Throat Hospital for surgery. If my eyesight is restored, and I’m not residing in a foreign land, I’ll write. And, perhaps I will include a check to you for this session, as I’m feeling better already!

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