![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Poor Isabelle.
Jun. 28th, 2001 08:51 amA weird thing happened to me last week, Thursday night. I was using the computer while Rey watched her weekly symp-show, and suddenly I realised I couldn't read the text. I could see the image on the screen reasonably well, but the center of my field of vision wasn't working. Not a black hole, but a blind spot, and like a blind spot it's not immediately obvious that it's there - you only notice because you can no longer use your eyes properly. I thought maybe I'd stared at something bright and dazzled myself, so I waited for a few minutes for it to go away. Then I tried shutting my eyes for a minute or two, and still no improvement; if anything, the area affected was larger.
Gradually, over the next half-hour or so, the area affected spread, wiping out my vision almost completely (both eyes equally, as far as I could tell.) It's hard to describe; I could still see things, in a way, but I was no longer able to combine them into a coherent image. By the time I decided to go and lie down in the bedroom with the lights off, I was almost blinded. I was trying to make sense of the objects lying on the bed, and could not tell what shape they were even when I bent over them close; I only recognised one as Gillian's pyjamas because I remembered they were pink-and-white stripy, like this. The light was still getting in, but no longer being processed properly.
And I was getting a splitting headache.
Gillian, faithful as ever, soothed me and rubbed my head (which was pleasantly distracting, but did nothing to drive the ache away.) It grew worse, ebbed a bit, and grew again, lingering for another hour or more; meanwhile, fortunately, the visual symptoms had faded somewhat. To be replaced by waves of nausea; I ended up standing & kneeling over the bathroom sink, sure that I was going to vomit at any moment. Wanting to vomit, just for relief from the nausea; but I didn't. And then slowly the symptoms went away again, until about two or three hours after the first hole in my vision things were back to normal.
This is most likely (thank God) visual migraine, which I have never experienced before and don't particularly want to again, but is a damn sight better than any of the other things that might cause similar symptoms. Off to the doctor this afternoon, to make sure.
Anyway, enough about me, and on to Poor Isabelle.
Isabelle, like me, is a PhD student here. She's looking at the effects of sleep on the cornea, with and without contact lens wear during this time. So her work requires people willing to have their eyes anaesthetized, examined, poked lightly with a gel-covered microscope tip, go to sleep wearing one contact lens, and go through the whole examination/microscope process again eight hours later. We're not allowed to open our eyes during those eight hours.
So she has to find a dozen willing volunteers, and schedule staggered examination times for them; the last evening exam is usually about midnight, and the first morning exam around 6 am. Somewhere in between those times, apparently, she sleeps. And being a nice person, she makes sure we're fed dinner & breakfast, and sets up beds for all of us.
About two weeks ago, she did what was supposed to be the last of these overnights. Dinner, anaesthetic-prod-bed, repeat for all students. Then, in the morning, the microscope broke down, and she had to abort the trial. So we rescheduled for yesterday.
Dinner (which I missed), anaesthetic-prod-bed, repeat. I was scheduled for an 8 am examination, but was woken about 6:15 am:
whoop... whoop... whoop... evacuate as directed... whoop... whoop... whoop...
As best we can tell, one of the cleaners had dropped a lit cigarette in a rubbish bin, or some such.
So we all had to throw on clothes and troop downstairs (the clinic is on the fifth floor), doing our best to keep both eyes shut, and wait half an hour for the building to be cleared and OKed. Then Isabelle took our hands and led us back in, and went on with the experiment. (At least we were able to use the lift on the way back.) I think she had to miss a couple of examinations due to the interruption, but the rest should be salvageable.
These things never strike at the beginning of the experiment, when it could easily be abandoned. They always wait until you've wasted about eight hours.
At least I know I'm not the only one who has to deal with this sort of thing.
2 pm
Doctor says "Couldn't have described a textbook case of visual migraine better myself." Okay, the anti-migraine tablets cost $10 EACH, but it beats tumours and strokes and retinal detachments and other such exciting curiosities.
Gradually, over the next half-hour or so, the area affected spread, wiping out my vision almost completely (both eyes equally, as far as I could tell.) It's hard to describe; I could still see things, in a way, but I was no longer able to combine them into a coherent image. By the time I decided to go and lie down in the bedroom with the lights off, I was almost blinded. I was trying to make sense of the objects lying on the bed, and could not tell what shape they were even when I bent over them close; I only recognised one as Gillian's pyjamas because I remembered they were pink-and-white stripy, like this. The light was still getting in, but no longer being processed properly.
And I was getting a splitting headache.
Gillian, faithful as ever, soothed me and rubbed my head (which was pleasantly distracting, but did nothing to drive the ache away.) It grew worse, ebbed a bit, and grew again, lingering for another hour or more; meanwhile, fortunately, the visual symptoms had faded somewhat. To be replaced by waves of nausea; I ended up standing & kneeling over the bathroom sink, sure that I was going to vomit at any moment. Wanting to vomit, just for relief from the nausea; but I didn't. And then slowly the symptoms went away again, until about two or three hours after the first hole in my vision things were back to normal.
This is most likely (thank God) visual migraine, which I have never experienced before and don't particularly want to again, but is a damn sight better than any of the other things that might cause similar symptoms. Off to the doctor this afternoon, to make sure.
Anyway, enough about me, and on to Poor Isabelle.
Isabelle, like me, is a PhD student here. She's looking at the effects of sleep on the cornea, with and without contact lens wear during this time. So her work requires people willing to have their eyes anaesthetized, examined, poked lightly with a gel-covered microscope tip, go to sleep wearing one contact lens, and go through the whole examination/microscope process again eight hours later. We're not allowed to open our eyes during those eight hours.
So she has to find a dozen willing volunteers, and schedule staggered examination times for them; the last evening exam is usually about midnight, and the first morning exam around 6 am. Somewhere in between those times, apparently, she sleeps. And being a nice person, she makes sure we're fed dinner & breakfast, and sets up beds for all of us.
About two weeks ago, she did what was supposed to be the last of these overnights. Dinner, anaesthetic-prod-bed, repeat for all students. Then, in the morning, the microscope broke down, and she had to abort the trial. So we rescheduled for yesterday.
Dinner (which I missed), anaesthetic-prod-bed, repeat. I was scheduled for an 8 am examination, but was woken about 6:15 am:
whoop... whoop... whoop... evacuate as directed... whoop... whoop... whoop...
As best we can tell, one of the cleaners had dropped a lit cigarette in a rubbish bin, or some such.
So we all had to throw on clothes and troop downstairs (the clinic is on the fifth floor), doing our best to keep both eyes shut, and wait half an hour for the building to be cleared and OKed. Then Isabelle took our hands and led us back in, and went on with the experiment. (At least we were able to use the lift on the way back.) I think she had to miss a couple of examinations due to the interruption, but the rest should be salvageable.
These things never strike at the beginning of the experiment, when it could easily be abandoned. They always wait until you've wasted about eight hours.
At least I know I'm not the only one who has to deal with this sort of thing.
2 pm
Doctor says "Couldn't have described a textbook case of visual migraine better myself." Okay, the anti-migraine tablets cost $10 EACH, but it beats tumours and strokes and retinal detachments and other such exciting curiosities.
