Emma’s Story

As a still fairly young person, it can be easy to take health for granted, or, give less weight to signs of disease. 

As a struggling entrepreneur, this lack of attention to one's health, coupled with the simultaneous, distant admission of its fragile reality and high stakes necessity to running a business, is an absolutely terrifying conflict. 

So on October 29, 2022, when my right eye 'felt funny', I was in no mental state to consider taking care of myself. But, to continue this bizarre and absolutely chaotic life I have built, always with the hope of calm and safety, to the optometrist I went to take care of business.

Eye business.

Health business.

I biked there, thinking I would just need glasses or eye drops or... something mild.  But as the optometrist pulled away from the ophthalmology microscope she had just been looking through, the look on her face said everything. "You need to go to a neuro-ophthalmologist right now. Their office is downtown, the front desk will give you the address."

I called my fiancé and gave this confusing update. And that was the start of years of appointments, and a gentle introduction for what was to come.

All of us who have dealt with this disease, or some variation thereof, is no stranger to the slew of medications, procedures, side effects. An MRI or two (just in case there are signs of MS, or a brain tumour). The head spinning post-care instructions, perhaps abruptly ballooning from prednisone; perhaps, one's stomach lining being eaten away from all the drugs, and the resulting pain. Not being able to see when you need to, suddenly. You can close your eyes but you cannot look away.

This is a weird one. It is a bit isolating. It is a bit strange to have experienced cataract surgery first hand in my early thirties. It is a bit strange to get pellets injected into my eyeballs every few months. It is a bit strange that our medical system, in a country whose medical system is lauded as superior (to what, we must ask), does not provide financial coverage for these sight-saving treatments. 

And at this point, let me take the opportunity to thank my family who has been so incredibly supportive. My proposed brain tumor or MS situation would not have been ruled out so early without them, my to-and-from appointments would be far less supportive. My new robo lenses would be the floor model. And now I have glasses.

I'd also like to acknowledge how much opportunity there is with medical research, not just for birdshot, but for…everything. I hope that resources to combat the suffering these illnesses inflict are used wisely, and compassionately. Animal research models have been the oddly unscientific go-to for decades. And because I know how painful it is to have an Ozurdex pellet injected with extra freezing, I cannot even imagine how painful that would be for a bunny, or a beagle, or a cat, with no anaesthetic whatsoever. And my life gets to continue, and I do not have to sleep in a lab cage at night.

The biggest takeaway from my experience with birdshot is no different from any other experience in life - you have a lot, so use it for good. Because while this has been a very challenging experience, my heart is still with the victims of our sloppy phase one drug experiments. I know that through true evolution in technology, we can achieve great things, compassionately. And we can do that in our everyday life, too.