Uveitis

Uveitis

Fact: we human beings are made of pretty fragile jellies.  As a surgeon I know this to be true.  I spend my working hours cutting it, burning it and tying it with small bits of string. This is not our impression of our own bodies.  I generally see my body as a fairly capable entity.  I have a reasonable expectation that it will do what I want it to.  The experience of the past two weeks have caused to me to question this.

We are currently in Kinshasa.  We came here from Eastern Congo to deal with our visas, and to visit a hospital called Vanga.  Upon arriving at Vanga, my left eye started to hurt.  I did what most doctors do, and automedicated with antibiotic eye drops.  The next day it was worse and my vision was blurry.  I visited the eye clinic at Vanga and was informed that I had anterior uveitis.  My pupil was a bizarre inverted heart-shape, due to adhesions between the iris and the lens.  I was prescribed atropine drops and steroid drops.  Over the next couple of days, my vision deteriorated to the point where I could not see my hand in front of my face.  They tried to measure my visual acuity in the left eye, but I couldn’t even see the eye chart on the wall.  Meanwhile I was still doing surgery. Ever tried to remove a thyroid with one eye closed?  I don’t recommend it.  I would have to touch the patients neck with my fingers to see how far away it was, before making the incision.  Anyway, to make a long story short(er), we were able to get a flight to Kinshasa to see a specialist here.  This was not easy for us, as we had to leave patients behind in Vanga who also have critical problems. I even did two cases while we were waiting for the plane.  Now, in Kinshasa,  I am now on systemic steroids.  I have undergone a battery of negative tests.  On the positive side, I have learned that I do not have toxoplasmosis, yaws, or syphilis.  The vitreous humor (in the back of my eyeball) is affected and is cloudy.  I see blurry floaters drifting by, which is kind of entertaining. On a positive note, my retina has not detached.  I’m supposed to be seen by the specialist tomorrow. My vision is not any better, but it’s at least not worse. Perhaps you are wondering why we are not on a flight back to the US right now.  Our passports are sitting in some office here in Kinshasa and it is not clear to me when they might be available. We absolutely need these visas to be completed. 

So that’s my news. I’ve gone through a range of emotions. Posterior uveitis is kind of a big deal and there is a chance that it could resolve, but also a significant chance that my vision could be permanently damaged or that I could become blind in that eye. I start to wonder if I can continue to serve as a surgeon.  Maybe it’s time for that second career I’ve always dreamed of, one that might be more suited to monocular vision. Perhaps this all sounds terrible, but there have been many blessings. If this had happened in Nyankunde, I don’t know what we would have done. Here in Kinshasa I am getting appropriate treatment and I am not forced to do surgery. I’ve been resting, with the exception of the forays into the city. In the taxi, I just close my eyes.  It is less stress on the brain and spares me from observing the madness that is Kinshasa traffic. Lindsey and Emmanuel have been great. They drip endless drops into my eye and count out the pills I’m supposed to take. They guide me over the ditches and piles of garbage. 

Maybe it’s a good thing.  We get so wrapped in our abilities, our capacity to serve, our “indispensability.”  The poet Milton went blind and this was the subject of perhaps his most well-known sonnet.  Don’t get me wrong..I haven’t gone blind, just blurry in one eye, and I’m certainly not Milton.  Still the message is apropos.  God doesn’t need our abilities to accomplish his glorious purposes. He wants us simply to do what we can, to accept the “mild yoke” he places on us.  Sometimes what he wants from us is to simply be his children, to rest in that.  Here’s the sonnet, by the way. 

Warren

When I consider how my light is spent,

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

And that one Talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide,

“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”

I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need

Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is Kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o’er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait.”