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Stories from the Clinic
10: Absolute Glaucoma
By Emily C. Lierman
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In absolute glaucoma there is no perception of light, and the
condition is considered to be incurable. It may or may not be
accompanied by pain, and in the latter case the only remedy is
believed to be the enucleation, or removal of the eye. So far as the
editor is aware there is no case of absolute glaucoma on record in
which the pain has been relieved, or any measure of sight restored, by
any method except the one described below.
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A few months ago there came to the clinic a woman of seventy-nine. At
first glance one could see that she was a lady, and I guessed that at
one time she had been very well off. As she stood apart from the rest
of the patients waiting to be attended to she took not the slightest
notice of what was going on around her, and occasionally I heard her
moan with pain.
When at last Dr. Bates was able to examine her he found that she had
glaucoma in both eyes, and that the right was stone blind, possessing
not even light perception. He turned her over to me, asking me to do
what I could to help her and stop her pain. Fortunately I was able to
find a stool for her, a rare thing at the clinic, and placing it
before a table upon which she could rest her elbows, I showed her how
to palm, which she did very readily. After a few minutes the pain
ceased and the eyeballs became soft. I now told her to take down her
hands, but she still kept her eyes shut. I thought this was because I
had not told her to open them, but when I told her she might do so she
asked:
"Are you sure the pain will not come back if I open them. For many
days I have suffered with such constant pain that I cannot sleep at
night, and now I feel such a sense of relief that I would really like
to keep my eyes closed."
"I don't think the pain will come back," I said, "and if it does
you can palm again."
I now held a test card about two feet from her eyes, and told her to
cover her better eye and look at the card with the blind one. We had
several visiting doctors at the clinic that day, and Dr. Bates had
told them about this case of absolute glaucoma. They were all standing
by, with Dr. Bates himself, when I asked the patient to look at the
card, and the excitement was intense when she said that she saw the
large letter at the top.
"Oh, Doctor," I said, "she sees it!"
"Yes, I see it, I really see it," added the patient, scarcely able
to credit her senses.
After a little more treatment I told her she must keep her eyes shut
as much as possible when she was at home, and palm every minute she
could get. I also told her never to look at any point more than a
second, but to keep constantly shifting. She went away happy and
grateful, for the pain had not come back.
The next time she came Dr. Bates treated her, and was able to improve
the vision of the right eye to 9/200, while that of the left eye
improved to 9/40. He then turned her over to me again. She was very
happy and wanted to talk, which I let her do. She said she was living
in a furnished room and that I hadn't any idea how worried she had
been about going blind, because she had no one to look after her.
"But now," she added, "I have all sorts of hopes for the relief of
my trouble, because you and Dr. Bates have done so much for me.
Palming helps me so much that I am now able to sleep at night. I like
to do it for hours at a time, because it takes the terrible pain
away."
I now told her to use her imagination to improve her sight and relieve
the pain. Most of the clinic patients become confused when I ask them
to do this, but this dear old lady did not find it a bit difficult. I
told her to palm, and then imagine a florist's window filled with
flowers. Next I told her to imagine that she had entered the shop and
was observing the flowers, and I called to her mind the red rose and
the white rose, the carnation, the violet and other blossoms. Then I
asked her if she could imagine the green fields in the country where
the daisies grow, and she said:
"Yes, and I can imagine that I am picking the daises also."
I now told her to remove her hands from her eyes, and Dr. Bates was
thrilled when she saw the T on the thirty line at ten feet. The
patient herself laughed out loud and said:
"I cannot believe it."
She came to the clinic regularly, three days a week, for quite a
while, and always happy because she was steadily improving. I was not
prepared, therefore, to find her one day looking very much depressed.
The trouble was that she had had a visitor who talked to her—or at
her, I should say—for two long hours; this had upset her nerves so
that the pain had returned and her vision had been lowered. I pictured
to myself what it must mean to listen to a steady stream of gossip for
two hours, and my sight at once became imperfect. I told her what a
dangerous thing it was for her to allow herself to be tortured in this
way, and said that if her friends insisted upon talking to her for
such a length of time she must keep her eyes closed as much as
possible. Otherwise the strain would cause her to go blind.
For a time she got along nicely. Then I left the city for a much-
needed vacation, and while I was away I got word that she was getting
worse. I came back to town, and, as she was not able to come to the
clinic, I called upon her.
"Oh, nurse," she said, as soon as she saw me, "my right eye pains
me so that I think of nothing but death."
Her thin face was lined with pain, and I could see that she was in
agony. I began to talk to her about the days when she did not suffer,
and how she had stopped the pain by remembering the daisies. She began
to palm without my telling her to, and became able to imagine the
daisy waving in the breeze. I asked her to imagine that her body was
swinging with the flower. She did this, and a few minutes her pain
left her and she smiled.
"Now, isn't it strange," she remarked, "but I forgot all about
using my imagination."
She said that I had worked a miracle; but I explained that when she
used her imagination she had to relax enough to relieve the strain in
her eyes, and that had stopped the pain.
We often hear the remark, "This person makes me sick," or "That person
makes me nervous," but it remained for my glaucoma patient to make me
realize that these observations are literal statements of fact. All
about the walls of her little room, which was very clean and sunshiny,
were photographs of her children and their families. With great pride
she named each one in turn, but when she came to the picture of a man
and woman hanging a little apart from the rest her tone changed.
"This is my daughter," she said of the woman, and I could see that
she was very fond of her, but when she pointed to the man she said:
"I cannot bear him. He makes me nervous and sick, because he is not
a good man."
She began to strain at once, and had to do some palming before I left
to relieve her pain. Evidently it is important, if we want to avoid
eyestrain, that we should keep away from the people we dislike, and
think of them as little as possible.
I called on her a few times more, and by resting her eyes between each
line of letters she became able to read 10/20 with the once blind eye
and 10/10 with the other. The last time I saw her she was happy and
comfortable.
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Glaucoma Number
Better Eyesight
A monthly magazine devoted to the prevention and cure of imperfect
sight without glasses
Copyright, 1920, by the Central Fixation Publishing Company
Editor—W. H. Bates, M.D.
Publisher—Central Fixation Publishing Co.
$2.00 per year, 20 cents per copy
342 West 42nd Street, New York, N. Y.
Vol. III - December, 1920 - No. 6
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