The Limits of Medical Science

I remember - as a child - standing in line at school, waiting outside the nurse's office for a vaccination. My whole class was there, waiting in fear and dread. Children were coming out crying... Those of us waiting started whimpering, too.

Then one child came out and proudly announced: That didn't hurt.

Really?! I stopped sobbing and wondered: Would it - or would it not - hurt when my turn came?

Look away and it won't hurt, the nurse informed me. I did - and hardly felt a thing.

From then on, my secret when dealing with needles is to look away... and think about something else.

I don't know what my mother's reaction to needles was when she was growing up or even as an adult. But when she moved to Ottawa at age 83, the sight of a needle going into her skin already transformed my normally calm mother into a screaming two-year-old.

Now, at 94, she has macular degeneration. She can't see out of one eye. But this summer she has been complaining that rooms are dark. She can't see the color of the food on her plate - and faces around the table are all dark gray.

I made an appointment for her to see a specialist. After examining her eyes, he announced that macular degeneration results in a blood vessel forming at the back of the eye, making everything she sees dark. A new treatment, with a 90% success rate, can hold the condition at bay. Treatment is covered by the Ontario Health Insurance Plan, and it's ongoing: Every four weeks medication has to be administered - by needle - into each eye, after freezing the eyes.

I remember having my eyes frozen for laser surgery four years ago. It felt strange to realize what was happening - I watched but I didn't feel a thing... The whole procedure was painless.

Did she want to try the treatment? the doctor asked my mother.

She nodded.

But when she saw the first needle the doctor was going to use to freeze her eye, she squeezed her eyes shut and started to scream.

The doctor looked at me and said: She has to lie perfectly still and open her eyes. If she can't do that, there's nothing I can do.

So, of course, nothing was done.

For me, it was sad and discouraging - knowing medical science had discovered a treatment - but because of my mother's fear of needles, nothing could be done.

When I later recounted the event to my neighbor - a woman much younger than me, she nodded. I can't stand letting anyone touch my eyes either. There is a history of macular degeneration in my family. So I guess I may go blind, as well.