If you’re wondering what these two ultrasound-looking photos are, they are actually photos of my retinas taken at my most recent appointment. Like I said in Part 1, I learned a lot at this appointment, and the photos were just part of this wealth of information.

While I knew that I had a form of RP known as Lebers, I hadn’t realized that a 1995 blood test revealed the specific RP gene that Jenelle and I have; it is called the CRB1 Gene. This gene, unfortunately, is not the specific gene in clinical trials for gene therapy right now (the treatment that Dr. Fishman feels is the most promising within the near future).

Another gene, the RPE65 gene, is currently in human trials, and from what I gathered from Dr. Fishman, this is mostly due to the fact that it is one of the more common RP genes and that patients with RPE65 tend to have their central nuclear still intact, a necessary requirement for gene therapy

This is a new term I learned today, and they actually took pictures of my retinas to see if my central nuclears were still viable, meaning that the cells are alive and could therefore be receptive to gene therapy. This is, of course, all hypothetical considering the CRB1 gene is not currently in clinical trials. I naively asked whether it would be the next gene in trials, not realizing that there are many other RP genes that have also been identified that would be in the running. He said that research studies are more likely to take place with the genes that affect the most amount of people first. When asked how common the CRB1 gene is, he said it’s right in the middle. So there may be some waiting. He said that the results for the RPE65 gene are promising so far, however, and that once the initial FDA-approval process is over with, the following trials will be able to move at a much faster pace than the first one. Of course, even if the CRB1 gene begins human trials in the near future, Dr. Fishman pointed out that there are still many risks to weigh in whether Jenelle and I would want to volunteer to be among some of the first groups for treatment, especially considering they have to detach your retina during surgery, which could potentially decrease vision even further.

Dr. Fishman himself is involved more directly in some pharmacological studies that do similar work as gene therapy but are taken as medication rather than surgery. Some patients have had improved fields from this drug study, though the patient he was specifically testing did not have improved fields (but improved his acuity by 17 letters, which is substantial).

These are pictures of my retinas. The dark area in the periphery is scarring, or as Dr. Fishman put it, “charcoal ashes from the fire that is the disease”. The small white area in the center shows my central nuclear, which is still intact, though it is a very thin layer. The center of everyone’s retina is thin, but is extremely thin in patients with RP.

As far as other results from this visit, one major disappointment from Dr. Fishman moving offices is that a lot of records did not make it over yet, including my previous visual fields tests. I had been anxious to compare the results of today’s test to previous tests, but such is life Hopefully they will eventually find all of their files.

I did feel like my fields were pretty narrow during the test, but I think I am always surprised by how much I really can’t see when I take the fields test. Marty, my favorite technician who was doing my test, was particularly astonished that in my left eye– the one that can’t even see the giant E on the chart at 20/400, could still see a tiny pen-light in the center of the field test “All-be-darn” was his exact quote. Again, since they don’t have my previous records at the moment, I have no idea whether this is something I could see during my previous tests 3 years ago. While I did a fields test at my local eye doctor in Naperville this past fall, the test was not nearly as thorough, and the technician got really confused while doing the test because she had never done a test on someone with such low vision before, so I can’t use that one to compare to either.

Marty also said that he finds it fascinating how I am able to even walk from the waiting room to the exam room without any problem. He remarked on how the human brain compensates for the missing pieces of vision and fills vision in to make things look like a whole picture when there should really be no way to see the whole picture at all. He said with the vision I have, even walking around should be nearly impossible, but because my brain has filled in these pieces, I’m able to (even if it’s not always very well!) While I have had many of these same thoughts before, I was never sure if they had any actual scientific basis to them before hearing a professional say them.

As I said in Part 1, Dr. Fishman’s care for his patients was particularly evident to me during this visit I’m not sure whether it’s the new office environment or whether maybe I’m just better at asking specific questions now as an adult, but I feel like he took such care explaining extremely complicated scientific information in simple terms that I could understand.

I definitely plan on recording my next visit so that I can actually listen to it once I get home since there is way too much information to even begin to remember, much less reiterate to my family and friends later. Until then, I hope my modest attempt to convey pieces of info from the visit is helpful. Thanks for reading!


So I visited my childhood opthamologist and world-reknown RP researcher, Dr. Gerald Fishman last week. I have to say it was one of the most eye-opening visits I’ve ever had with him (and this is both pun and literal– you can always coulnt on your eyelids being pried wide open during an exam).

Back in the fall when I wrote, “Trip to Opthamologist” I was pretty darn honest about my memories of my visits with Dr. Fishman growing up, and I have to say that as I sat in his office, I kept cringing imagining if he were to ever see what I wrote “Fishbreath” isn’t the most flattering descriptor for a respected doctor.  (not that a famous researcher would ever be browsing through doublevisionblog!)

Dr. Fishman is now at the Lighthouse for the Blind in Chicago (rumor has it that it was a political upset that led to the switch from UIC Eye and Ear Infirmirary to the Lighthouse). I found it interesting that it wasn’t just the doctor himself who moved practices– his sidekick technician, Marty, who has been with him since 1996, was there to razz me with his usual goofy comments, so it felt like a little reunion of sorts, as I had not been to an appointment for a few years.

He also still had a Fellow working under him, Dr. Collingsby, and I kind of wonder if some of these younger doctors have been the ones teaching their mentor how to improve his patient-communication skills just as he has been teaching them about retinas, as I notice Dr. Fishman has become more personable over the years.  Or maybe it’s me getting older.  Or the new building he is in.

Dr. Collingsly examined me first, and though there were the usual bright lights shone stingingly in my retinas, he had clearly brushed his teeth and carried the aroma of soap, which beats many other potential smells.  He did still emulate Dr. Fishman’s audible, scientific terminology during the exam….. “asteroids in the center vitreous…..look up please……scarring in the outer……all the way to your right please….white lipids…..” which always cracks me up because I have no idea what any of it means, and most of it sounds like they’re looking through a telescope at the solar system, not my retina.

While I think part of the audible descriptors are for the sake of educating the doctors-in-training, the fact that Fishman mutters these terms to himself even when there are no other doctors present tells me that he is simply engrossed in what he does (or he says thing aloud to help remember them in order to write them on my chart maybe?)

True side story today: As Dr. Fishman has my left eye pried completely open with a bright light shining directly on my retina, he says something about looking at a beautiful universe of greens and blues and pigment mumbo jumbo and then mumbles “nothing to do with the RP but I can’t stop looking at these” and then chastises himself, saying “come on Fishman, back to work!” And I don’t think this was crazy-talk or senility or anything. I think he is so enamored with the human retina and all its details that he really, really loves what he does.

At one point I asked him the round-about question I always end up asking. And even though I know he can’t give me a clear answer, I can never stop myself from asking it in some form. So today I worded it, “So I think I remember you telling me that most patients you’ve seen who maintain usable central vision like I do are able to hang onto that bit of central vision for quite awhile”. And he said that’s true of people with 20/40 or better, and since I’m at 20/50, it’s really hard to tell. But what really got me today was that he kind of touched my upper arm and said genuinely, “Because each RP case is so different and there’s not a typical path for anyone, I cannot predict the outcome that you deserve to know.” He said I deserved to know what will happen with my vision. It isn’t possible, of course, but he said I deserved to know. And since I didn’t tape record him, I don’t even remember the exact quote– I think he said it better than what I quoted, but for the first time I felt his sadness in not being able to really help his patients– or even give them an accurate prognosis. How frustrating as a doctor.  Not to mention as a researcher who has devoted their career to finding a cure.

So I’m looking at this doctor– this researcher with the bow tie who speaks in scientific terms with fiery breath way too close to my face.  I stare at this small man who is frail and balding– the same one I dreaded seeing annually as a child– and he no longer appears as the villain. As a kid, your mind interprets events in crazy ways, and these difficult visits filled with bad news, poking and prodding definitely painted the doctor as the antagonist.

And I guess at this visit I grew up and saw how this “antagonist” has devoted his life to RP research well beyond the age most doctors retire (Marty-the-sidekick said he doesn’t know the definition of retirement!  Marty also would not tell me Dr. Fishman’s age, and I thought it would be weird to ask the doctor himself!).

Before leaving, Dr. Fishman asked, “have I answered all your questions?” and after saying yes and walking out of the office, I noticed he had been answering my questions for over an hour (on top of the 2 previous hours of tests)– an insane amount of time to spend with a patient these days.

And that’s the main reason I will make the trip to the city to see him each year instead of simply going to my local eye doctor.  I think any retina specialist can check for cataracts or fluid leaking in my retinas (two risks with RP), but I go to this particular specialist for the education. Yes, I could look online, but when you’re looking online, you really have to piece together a lot of information that may or may not be accurate.

For an update on what the appointment actually found vision-wise, please read part 2!