My Nerdical Diagnosis

I've struggled for years with eyes that each have a will of their own. They're like warring twins. Doctor after doctor looked and confirmed it and put a patch on the problem: thicker and thicker glasses.

It's like when the bathroom faucet is leaking. I go in and confirm that indeed it's dripping. But, instead of fixing the faucet, I close the bathroom door so I don't have to hear it drip anymore. (For those not good at analogies the door is to the drip as the glasses are to my crazy eyes.)

Now, however, I have a doctor who has examined my eyes, confirmed that they're like warring twins (not in those exact medical terms) and provided a diagnosis. Finally a diagnosis. I should be thrilled, but I'm not.

I didn't get anything exotic, like Alice in Wonderland Syndrome or Naegleria fowleri, written in my medical record. My paper was stamped with big, black, block letters: NERD.

Duane's (pronounced Dwayne's for those of you living in the South) Syndrome, that's what I've got. As far as ailments go, it's benign. No one dies from eyes that resemble warring twins. But I like to died when he told me the name of my condition: Duane's Syndrome. No doubt, many a physician has lost a patient to the secondary condition of embarrassment.

And I'm happy to report that, fingers crossed, my June 23rd surgery repaired most of my problem. At least it repaired the worst parts. My eyes, for now, seem to be getting along nicely. I do, however, worry about what mischief they're getting into when I'm not looking. Somehow, it's sure to get me in trouble.