For the entire last year, the only true surgeries that I’ve performed as primary surgeon were pterygia–those bat-winged conjunctival growths on the medial bulbar conjunctiva. I would typically rip the entire bat-wing off with some Westcott scissors and scrape down the cornea with a #57 blade. Most of the time, I used a battery-powered diamond burr to smooth out the cornea–that’s how the wimps do it. Afterward, I transpose a part of the superior bulbar conjunctiva over to cover the exposed wound. It typically took me 30 minutes (on a good day) to finish the case.

In these cases, I never entered the eye (intentionally).

Last week, I performed an anterior capsulotomy on a 10-month old girl. This involved loading up the Accurus vitrectomy surgical system to chew up the phimosis that developed after cataract surgery. This was a relatively simple procedure, involving an anterior chamber maintainer and another 23G port for instrumentation. However, it was my first attempt at intraocular surgery. The feeling is different. When you’re working inside the eye, there is a sense of uncertainty, even when you have direct visualization of your work. The eye is like a ball–you’re working on the inside without opening it up.  It was an even stranger feeling to run the vitrectomy system without ever having performed cataract surgery.

Running the vitrector (without having broken a posterior capsule) was a blast. The little pieces of capsule eddied toward the probe head at different rates, depending on how much I depressed the foot pedal. Before I knew it, I had chewed up the phimosis, and the case was completed.

I feel that I have been initiated.

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I saw a guy in the clinic several weeks ago who sprayed Hongo Killer in his eye. He had a 100% epithelial defect with descemet’s folds. The cornea was pretty much in endothelial shock, although he was not hypotonous.

I chuckled when he showed me the bottle. I suppose that it was entertaining only because of my limited Spanish knowledge and I had been basking in our underground clinic’s flickering fluorescent lights the entire day.

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I’ve performed about ten pterygium excisions in the operating room so far, and the biggest challenge I’ve encountered is operating on the LEFT eye. I’d imagine that any experienced surgeon would scoff at this hurdle, but the patient’s nose seems to impede my suturing abilities significantly (I use my right hand for needling driving).  The suturing in pterygia operations involves the medial bulbar conjunctiva, which is adjacent to the nose.

On my first few cases, I used a traction suture on the cornea to help rotate the globe for access. To minimize trauma on the cornea, I now ask my assistant/attending to help rotate the globe with a muscle hook. This is impractical, since most surgeons operate solo in practice. To remedy this problem, I’ve come up with three solutions:

1. Practice more–the obvious solution, but not elegant.
2. Use my LEFT hand to drive the sutures when operating on the LEFT eye. Use my RIGHT hand to drive sutures when operating on the RIGHT eye. Switch hitters in baseball do it, right? While I am not completely ambidextrous, I’m sure that my triple-digit hours playing Quake III and other FPS‘s might have helped my dexterity.
3. Operate only on RIGHT eyes. After all, there are already too many subspecializations in ophthalmology. Why not specialize on just one eye?

Which one is your favorite?

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I got a call from the emergency room several weeks ago regarding a consult for an “exploded egg” in the eye.

“Bullshit,” I initially thought. The ED frequently calls me about corneal abrasions and other minor trauma at obscene hours.

The photo on the left does not do justice to the severity of injury. Apparently, the patient had left a pot of boiling eggs on the burner, and exploded in her face. A shard of eggshell pierced the cornea through the stroma, nearly penetrating through Descemet’s membrane/endothelium.

The eggshell was removed in the operating room the next day. Unfortunately, I did not get to do the operation (but exciting nonetheless).

medicine ophthalmology

I had the chance to meet ophthalmology residents from Europe recently, and it’s fascinating to hear about their medical training experiences.

In particular, I learned about ophthalmology training in Portugal. As with most professional training outside of the United States, specialization begins directly after high school. Medical school totals six years of schooling, although they do not have an equivalent to “college” as we do in the U.S. During the last year of medical school, students rotate through certain medical specialties much like we do in our 3rd year of medical school.

During this 6th year, students prepare for a cumulative exam on Harrison’s Principles of Internal Medicine. It is a 100 question exam on minutiae. Several of the Portuguese residents have told me they studied for over six months for the exam. Others have taken it 3 times. Your score on the exam allows you preferential ranking into the specialty and hospital of your choice.

That’s right. No application essays. No interviews. No traveling. Your career is determined by how well you do on one single exam. Mind you, this isn’t like the SAT’s that Toby-the-school-jock (who happens to have a reasonable grasp on English) can get a 1600 (or 2400 now) without preparation. Any sort of all-inclusive exam on internal medicine borders insanity.

As far as I understand, ophthalmology training in Europe has great variability. What you learn is certainly dependent on which hospital you train at. It seems to me that much of the cerebral knowledge comes from independent learning from textbooks. Surgical training, however, can be impressive. One of the first year residents I spoke with had already performed over thirty pterygia and over ten phacoemulsifications! I would be fortunate to clock even 15 pterygia this year. A vitreoretinal fellow from India had told me he did over 500 phaco’s in addition to hundreds of extracapsular extractions during his residency.

In a way, it is humbling to hear about experiences outside of the U.S. Indeed, we have an overwhelming amount of funding and resources, yet our training isn’t necessarily superior. Where do our investments go? Research labs? Lawyers? Administration and unionized workers? The abyss?

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