A can of worms

I was one of those people who always think that “going for a medical check up means opening a can of worms, no problem also become got problem!”

The only problem I had was the problem of denial.

When I stepped through the doors of the Singapore National Eye Centre at Singapore General Hospital, I was greeted by the usual eye assessments. Checking eye pressure, reading letters etc.

The eye doctor from the previous night took a look at my eye again and this time, she was accompanied by an eye specialist. After looking at my eye and having no idea what to do, she escalated my case to a retina specialist.

I just have to say this, the young doctors in that facility are lookers. Be it male or female, they look good.

The retina specialist could not figure out what to do for my eye. Guess this means I’m in really deep crap now. She told me that she has to “call my boss.”

After awhile, 15minutes maybe? This older doctor came in, sat and down introduced himself as his name. No titles, no designation. Just a name.

He took a look at my eye and said softly, “wolf-jaw retinal detachment.”

He turned to the specialist and said, “Not as serious as you mentioned.” On hindsight now, maybe he was just trying to reassure me that he is confident that he is able to save my eye. You see, a retinal detachment in the wolf-jaw configuration is when the retina is attached from both the lower and upper end of the eye and it threatens the fovea, the spot where light gathers to form a sharp image for the retina.

He then turned to me and said, “can do. We do this Friday. Sign the papers.” “Prepare the surgery forms.”

The specialist went: “So fast?”

He replied: “Do you want him to change his mind?”

Wait what? No need to check operating theater schedule, no hassle. Mind you, I entered A&E on Monday, SNEC on Tuesday and immediately scheduled for an operation on the coming Friday. And this guy can do this with a snap of his fingers. He is SOMEBODY.

Seeing my hesitation while the specialist went to prepare the paperwork, the continued, “If we don’t do this quickly, not even me can save your sight.”

I guess this is it then, my 1st surgery. Ever.

I signed the papers and he took a closer look at my eye, describing how he will go about the surgery. He described the whole process as painting an artwork, each stroke and each cut, “like pencil on paper.”

I walked out of the consultation room, flabbergasted. There was no time for me to react. I have no idea who is doctor is, no background, no information. But at that point, I just trusted him and signed on the dotted line.

That was it. Friday beckons.

I still trust him till today.