When I’m seeing double with MG, sometimes a little humor helps
Some days, the muscles that steer my eyes clock out early
Written by |
Recently, I thought I’d try my hand at poetry. Here is my first masterpiece:
A teacher from Malden named Mark
saw double from dawn until dark.
Not a cousin was missed.
Two Aunt Mildreds were kissed.
And he greeted two dogs when one barked.
It’s not quite Frost or Byron, but it does have myasthenia gravis (MG) as its inspiration.
Comedian Kathleen Madigan grew up in a big Catholic family, one of seven kids. Her father had one diagnosis for every childhood complaint: “You’re not sick; you just think you’re sick!” As a Catholic boy from Malden, Massachusetts, I recognize that bedside manner. I often wish Mr. Madigan had been my neurologist. Think of the money I’d have saved.
Living with MG means that some days, the muscles that steer my eyes clock out early. My two eyes stop agreeing on where to look, and the world splits in two.
Which brings me to the that day I went to my ophthalmologist, worried about the double vision I was experiencing. I was sure it was because my glasses were scratched. The sign above the receptionist’s desk instructed patients to take a seat. Only two seats were unoccupied. Unfortunately, the one I chose wasn’t there and I landed on the floor. I told the doctors who examined me. Two of them laughed. At least, I think there were two of them. I left the office with a referral to a neurologist and a new word: ptosis.
For 30 years, I stood in front of a classroom and prided myself on seeing everything. I never missed a note passed in the back row or a phone hidden under a desk. If I’d had ptosis back then, I would’ve seen two notes and taken both of them.
I’ve decided to make lemonade out of the lemons I’ve been given. (Two lemonades, actually.) Mae West said it best: “Too much of a good thing can be wonderful!” Consider the benefits: My checking account looks twice as healthy. A pizza has 16 slices. The Red Sox have two chances to win.
George Burns once said that “happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.” My family is in another city, and on a double-vision day, it’s twice as large. By Burns’ math, I’m doubly happy.
Of course, there are drawbacks. The bills arrive in pairs. The staircase has twice as many steps, and I trust only half of them. Pouring coffee becomes a game of chance. When two doorknobs appear, I follow Mae West’s other rule: “Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.” It’s about as reliable as it sounds.
Woody Allen once confessed, “I have bad reflexes. I was once run over by a car being pushed by two guys.” On a bad MG day, I might see four guys pushing that car and still not get out of the way in time.
One remedy is an eye patch. Cover one eye, and the world goes back to being one world. It works beautifully, though it makes me look less like a retired history teacher and more like a Salem privateer. I’ve made my peace with it. Karen Walker would not. In the TV sitcom “Will & Grace,” the failing eyesight of the character Karen leads her to swipe a child’s lunchbox, convinced that a small thief was grabbing her purse. When her best friend Jack finally gets her into glasses, she shrieks at her reflection and calls them “devil goggles.” Karen, honey, try the patch.
And then there’s the animated sitcom “Bob’s Burgers,” which has an episode called “The Trouble with Doubles,” in which Bob and Linda’s double date ends with both couples locked in an escape room. I know the feeling. My last double-vision experience was a trip to the grocery store where I ended in the cereal aisle, trying to escape two identical walls of Cheerios.
Being a history teacher, I can’t resist a little background. Shakespeare borrowed an old Roman comedy by Plautus and doubled it. The ancient play had one set of twins. Shakespeare gave “The Comedy of Errors” two. This sends masters and servants careening around Ephesus while everyone mistakes everyone for someone else. In the final act, the exasperated Duke looks at the matching pairs and asks: “One of these men is genius to the other./ And so, of these, which is the natural man/ And which the spirit? Who deciphers them?” That’s me in the cereal aisle, Your Grace.
Here’s the truth beneath the jokes: MG takes things from us — strength, stamina, and sometimes the simple pleasure of seeing a friend’s face clearly across the table. Humor is how I take a little of it back. Double vision, for me, usually passes with rest and the right treatment.
Woody Allen said the most beautiful words in English aren’t “I love you” but “It’s benign.” For those of us with MG, a close runner-up is, “It’ll probably clear up by lunch.”
Until then, I’ll keep my patch handy, count my pizza slices twice, and greet everyone I see. Just to be safe, I’ll greet them both. Say goodnight, Gracies.
Note: Myasthenia Gravis News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Myasthenia Gravis News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to myasthenia gravis.
Leave a comment
Fill in the required fields to post. Your email address will not be published.