Eyes — a Window to Our Soul…and to Our Biological Need for Reassurance?
Today, I bring you a personal interlude. This week I had an opportunity to engage in what I like to refer to as “field research”. When I experience glitches in my own health or find myself “exploring” poor self-care, I jokingly call it my “field research”…you know, to better understand my patients (*wink*).
I do have a tendency to preoccupy myself with how my own experiences inform my understanding of what others go through. It seems to help me relate to my patients and deliver better caring. It’s endlessly fascinating to me to view events from a variety of perspectives because I see first hand with my patients, how differently we can all respond to identical sets of circumstances, especially when it comes to adverse health events.
Our care of each other as humans really depends on our ability to understand and empathize with these varying perspectives.
What struck me about my experience this week was the moment when a healthcare provider said to me that she wished this situation (that I was going through) were more widely taught and explained to everyone, because it does and should indeed happen to everyone at some point.
I often find myself thinking the exact same thing with many of the cases that come through my door. There are so many back and body pain-situations that could be much better managed and less disruptive if we all were given better information about some universal facts having to do with pain and our bodies and what it all really means.
What happened with me
Earlier this week I was doing house and yard work when I noticed that there was a pesky and persistent fruit fly following me around, playing hide and seek. Every time I turned to look at it, it would flit away. Typical. This went on for most of a day before I realized it was just a common visual disturbance referred to as a “floater”.
Floaters are pieces of connective tissue that are normally found “floating” around in the jelly-like substance of our eyes, the vitreous. We all have them. They look like specks, dust particles or squiggly hairs and they move around in the field of vision with eye movements. People who have corrected vision sometimes will see them more easily because of the physics of optics.
This fruit fly floater of mine got my attention because it was new and it kept making me want to swat at it (slightly maddening!)
A day or so later, I was getting ready for bed and suddenly noticed my fruit fly friend had moved to the center of my vision and taken on a very large black squiggly shape. I thought to myself, “That’s no need to panic (or is it?).” I proceeded to head to bed and when I dimmed the room I started noticing that someone had turned on the disco lights. I was seeing flashes of light at my periphery. Fun but definitely not a good sign.
After a visit to the emergency department at a local hospital, most of the worrisome possibilities were ruled out. Nothing vascular. Nothing brain related. Possible retinal detachment but nothing to do about it until the morning.
What I learned the following day with a retinal specialist is that what I was experiencing is very common and in fact a necessary process that the eye undergoes with time. Most of us will experience “posterior vitreous detachment” after the age of 50. This jelly-like material inside the eye — the vitreous — shrinks with time and naturally pulls away from the back of the eye where it joins with the retina. The retina is made up of delicate nerve tissue responsible for our vision. Without that, we cannot see.
It’s vital to seek medical attention right away if you start to notice flashes of light and new floaters like I did, because sometimes this process does inadvertently dislodge the retina. Most of the time it does not, but in those rare cases when it does, it’s important to catch it early. Even then, modern technology has come so far that there are surgical procedures that can repair it.
The not knowing
The 24 hours during which I went from symptoms to medical triage to evaluation by a specialist, had me in turbo patient mode. I was in the position of many who come to see me when they’re experiencing a new and scary pain.
As their provider I’m repeatedly struck by what a huge role that fear can play in the experience and presentation of pain as well as the level of suffering. I find that many key aspects of that first encounter with a patient in acute pain, must address the fear before any relief is possible.
Sometimes that happens automatically — if treatment decreases symptoms then the fear lessens. Sometimes the fear and stress prevent treatment from being effective. This is because the experience of pain is not just the function of some sort of mechanical defect that, once it’s fixed alleviates the suffering. The experience of pain is heavily informed by stress and worry. And that does NOT mean that pain is all in our head!
Hearing from my physician, that not only was my experience due to a common process but that it was in fact expected and needed in order to avoid greater eye complications down the road, was the magic bullet for my nervous system. Having this information immediately calmed me. I felt great relief knowing that this is just what my body needed to do. I hadn’t done anything “wrong”. That my body actually knew best and was taking care of things exactly in the way it should.
This moment of relief also took me immediately into the shoes of my patients who have taught me that when I can convey the same message to them about their pain experience, this must be what it feels like. And it gave me a renewed appreciation for how very important reassurance is in the quest for relief and healing.
Without calming the stress factor, our biology can rev up to the point of greater disruption than the health issue itself, which then can prevent or delay any natural biological efforts at healing.
Not only is your unfamiliar and alarming pain-experience normal, it’s necessary and it’s the most reasonable reaction to current circumstances. In the same way that my vitreous detachment is a necessary consequence of naturally occurring changes in living body tissue, your pain is an important natural consequence of your mechanical, biochemical and emotional limits.
None of this means that we are in any way defective
These strange little health detours — pain or otherwise — are part of being a living and breathing organism with brilliant design — a design that guides us to make necessary pivots throughout the course of life. These pivots ultimately end up optimizing our existence going forward. It’s just not always easy to see that in the moment.
While navigating your health detours, see if you can try to find out what it is that you need in order to calm your mind. What’s your individual underlying worry that needs soothing? How can you get that soothing? Is it by gathering information? Is it by feeling heard or being supported by a friend, family member or healthcare provider? Maybe it’s just knowing that your body is not actually betraying you. It’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to do — which may not feel like it fits with what you think it should be doing.
No matter what your ailment, don’t underestimate the importance of focusing on finding reassurance so that you can calm yourself enough to get out of your own way and allow healing and recovery to take place.
