Eye Clinic Through my Eyes

I open my eyes and I wonder why it’s so dark. Obviously it’s still too early, way too early, so I close my eyes to fall back asleep, but I can’t. There is this unrelenting noise that just won’t let up. I have to find the source and stop it. The flash of light is too bright, I squeeze my eyes shut. It takes about 15seconds for my brain to actually wake up and it hits me – it’s the alarm on my phone, so I turn it off and jump up. Looking back, I check the time and its 5:45am. This, meaning it’s snoozed a few times.
I have to be at the eye clinic, or ophthalmic clinic as we call it, by 7:00am so I count how much time I have left as I grab my towel and run into the bathroom. This is not one of those days where I have the luxury of waiting for my water to boil so I run in cringing at the thought of a cold bath.
In record time, I’m out, running back into my room. I notice a white flash, a ghost? Whatever, I don’t care but just then I freeze. It’s not a ghost or papers flying about: it is my ward coat! Exactly where I hung it out to dry. I run and grab it like in the movies, turning on my iron as I run around packing my bag with my toothbrush in my mouth. I look at the time: 6:10am and I take a seat to dab what little bit of makeup I can before I have to run out. At 6:35am, I drop my mirror as the alarm I reset reminds me of what little time I have left. Pulling off my hair net to let loose the braids, I grab my phone, my door keys and shoes as I run out the door.
Jogging down the street, it is barely morning and with the dew, I cannot see beyond three metres. I make it to the bus stop in a haste but there is another problem: I live too far from the hospital and getting a bus or a taxi this early is almost impossible. As I stand, I pray and wave at every vehicle passing by hoping that at least one of them would stop; public transport or a good Nigerian, it doesn’t matter, I cannot be late. Nine minutes later, I hail a taxi. It stops and I hop in; “UBTH”, I tell him while searching for my wallet to pay.
Just before 7:00am, I rush into the clinic struggling to wear my ward coat as I throw around my morning greetings and niceties. I see my classmates posted to the same unit and releasing a deep breath, I hurry towards them. Thank God I made it in time: it is never a good thing to be known for late coming.
7:06am. The senior registrar walks in, we greet her and she says “Welcome to Ophthalmology” with a warm smile. We introduce ourselves and then she starts the introduction to ophthalmology (take note of the spelling; it’s important over here). So OPH, as we started calling it (because ophthalmology is a mouthful), is the study of the eye and its pathologies.
She starts with the anatomy of the eyes, 300level goods, “bleeding” us: this means she is asking us questions she expects us to know the answers to. Then she moves to history – taking to ruling out differentials (possible causes of presenting complaints), commonest of which are cataracts, glaucoma, refractive errors etc.
Next is physical examination and eye examination. She describes everything from the adnexae (brows, lids, lashes…) to the globe and the interior of the eye. She lets us practice with one other and teaches us how to use the Snellen chart, pen touch and ophthalmoscope. After that, we go to the clinic proper, pair up with other senior registrars, meet old patients, clerk new ones and learn the basics of examining the eye to make a diagnosis.
At the end of the day, with classes all done, I am so tired. I fall asleep immediately my head hits the pillow, my last thoughts being “I will have to do this tomorrow and for the next three weeks!” I am too tired to even groan so I just let sleep embrace me, until that unrelenting annoying sound wakes me up the next day and I jump up to repeat the routine.
By Friday, my left eye is dilated; it actually looks cool in the mirror but then I can barely see with the eye. We all have our eyes dilated so we can practice fundoscopy (that is looking at the back of the eyes, where the retina is) with each other.
The second week and even with waking up early and the extra studying at night because they won’t stop bleeding us, I am walking into the clinic again, some minutes past 7, struggling to wear my ward coat as usual but this time, I’m smiling and greeting the patients sitting at the entrance because by now I recognize some of them, and I know I am going to learn something new and interesting about the eye. Also I think babies with Esotropia (crossed eyes) are unbearably cute so I ask a mum for permission before I pick her baby up and we walk toward my classmates waving. We have a few minutes to chatter before another senior registrar comes with more for us to learn.
After three weeks, on my last day, Friday, it is a bitter-sweet feeling. Yes, no more rushing to school for 7:00am clinic. I am going back to the 8:00am schedule and maybe I won’t be so tired at the end of the day, but I am going to miss ophthalmology, I know I am. The consultant, senior registrar, clerking, fundoscopy and even the bleeding. I am going to miss my cataract and glaucoma patients. I am going to miss the questions I ask them while my brain follows a map to a diagnosis or a near diagnosis. I am going to miss telling patients to look straight while I look into their eyes with my ophthalmoscope; and I am definitely going to miss my Eso-babies (what I started calling babies with Esotropia).
Now, at the end of my training, maybe I go back to specialize in ophthalmology or maybe not (my senior registrar would find me and make sure I do, I know this. LOL). My point is, medical school is a crazy and amazing journey with stories and love here and there: who knows, I might fall in love with the next department and if I don’t, maybe the one after that. The list is inexhaustible, the possibilities endless. It’s a beautiful journey I feel I’ve been called to experience and that’s why I travel through it with such zeal and excitement.
And so, till my next journal on my experience, I am Ehi Owie, a 500level medical student at the University of Benin and I bid you goodwill. Thank you.