As I was thinking of a surgery I did, (360 degree retinectomy on a PVR C A-12 with anterior loop contraction). It got me thinking.... again. I emailed a friend of mine, Dr. Jeff Gale, my co-fellow during our UofT/SMH stint as retina fellows, just to have someone sympathize on a really terrible case, and this article came up while I was reading the news letters from the ASRS (American Society of Retina Specialists). I forgot who wrote this (I think it was Dr. Giampaolo Gini an Italian VR surgeon), but it gave me some comfort in the cases we do in our career, things that other colleagues actually take for granted.

The patient, who had light perception vision, is now seeing counting fingers 3 feet, to 20/400 with a +8.00. I think I now have to write up my case series, if only I have the time. :)

A PAUSE FOR REFLECTION

By any standard a vitreo-retinal surgeon’s life is a strange one to most people. Indeed, they are looked upon as peculiar individuals even by other ophthalmic specialists, who many times wonder what drives them to lead such compelling lifestyles - long hours spent on what seem hopeless cases, the willingness to enter the operating room whenever needed, be it day or night, a work day or a holiday.

What makes a retinal surgeon do what they do, instead of dealing with predictable anterior segment procedures or more lucrative refractive surgery? Ask the same question to any vitreoretinal surgeon and chances are you will get the same answer.

It is an endless love for this kind of surgery. Love for the challenge that goes with it and love for the patient. It is about being conscious that there is an enormous difference between restoring sight and having no sight at all. It is about knowing that there is a job to be done that few are willing or capable to do. Finally, it is about faith. An unwavering faith that each procedure performed, each experience gained and shared will ultimately lead us towards perfection. Idealism? Perhaps.

No doubt, vitreoretinal specialists are unique individuals. And as such they can be pretty lonely too. Most times you are likely to be the only surgeon doing retina in your hospital, so it is difficult to share your doubts, fears, plans and enthusiasm with your colleagues. They cannot share these feelings because they have not had these experiences. They have not “been there”.

Thus it makes me feel good to know there are people out there that I can discuss my experiences with. To know these people are friends. To know that as I walk into the operating room each morning these friends are doing the same in so many other parts of the world.