Student Experience

Expectations vs Reality – Starting Optometry School During a Pandemic

In August of 2019, if you asked me what I expected my four years of optometry school to look like, I probably would’ve answered something along the lines of “studying all the time,” “constantly stressed,” or “finally learning specifics about a subject that interests me.” Now that I am two years into school and on the verge of seeing my first patient (AH!), all these expectations have been true to a certain extent. However, what I didn’t expect from optometry school was to thrive under such extreme pressure with the best community of people I’ve ever met.

Like many others, March of 2020 threw a gigantic unforeseen wrench into most of my plans. Spoiler alert: what was supposed to be a two-week quarantine turned into more than two years. In August of 2020, the start of optometry school looked vastly different than I envisioned. Lab groups were limited to 15 individuals, two of which were my roommates, whom I met for the first time on move-in day to an apartment I had never seen before. We received our white coats from a folding table in the lobby in intervals to prevent us from getting within six feet of each other. In our labs, everyone was fully masked, and students were sent home to watch our professors lecture from a screen in our respective rooms. Club meetings looked more like webinars, in which you could submit questions, but everyone was generally too nervous to do so.

When I look back and reflect, this time was one of the strangest in my life. During a roughly four-month period, I knew only 15 people in my entire class. Not only this, but I also had not even seen what 13 of their faces looked like from the eyes down. The days looked like an unending loop of lectures and lab with almost zero social interaction or extracurricular activities. For an entire semester all I did was study, practice, study, practice and study some more. While my grades had never looked better, I was craving the ability to be immersed in the learning environment and do some of the fun events that go along with the stress of learning.

While that was a strange and stressful time in my life, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. As the summer before my second year came around, we received news that classes would be available in the coveted “in-person lecture” option! Clubs could even meet in person (with food)! Finally, a year into school, the full optometry experience was available. I was able to sit in a lecture hall with 130 of my classmates, still fully masked of course, learning the same content in the same place. As simple as this sounds, we forget about the joy those 10-minute breaks between classes gives you when you can joke around with your friends. This was the first time I was able to see most of my classmates’ lower half of their face as we ate lunch. I was shocked to realize that I had unintentionally already filled in the lower half of their face and was completely wrong!

This summer period was the time I can remember the possibilities really opening for my optometric education. Two years into school, I have now had the previously unattainable privilege to meet and interact with most of my classmates, network with some very wise doctors at various club meetings, and shadow older students in the clinic. What began as a period of isolation and fear of the future has become a wide-open space of endless possibilities. And to top it all off, on May 15 of 2022, I was ceremoniously handed my white coat (that is stained with coffee, ink and sodium fluorescence since I’ve been wearing it for two years now) and headed off to examine my first patient the very next day.

Starting optometry school amid a global pandemic has come with some challenges to say the least, but I wouldn’t trade a second of it for anything. The past two years have allowed me to appreciate the immense privilege I’ve been granted to be learning about a field I adore and implementing that knowledge surrounded by some of the best people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing. School is hard. Life is hard. But overcoming challenges has only made us stronger, more present and prepared to tackle anything that comes our way.

Student Experience

The Grace to Learn

Rachel Ryan, ICO, Class of 2024

Student doctors often find themselves placed in uncomfortable situations in clinic. That all too familiar panicked feeling of seeing something unknown during an exam and having a waiting attending to report back to. Of course, they are there to help us and increases our knowledge in any way they can. But, it is only natural for predisposed perfectionists to want all the answers right now. Restrained by the limitations of our current knowledge base, we yearn to be able to help our patients and provide the best care possible. Unfortunately, the curse of optometric expertise is paid in sleepless nights studying, self-inflicted symptoms of dry eye, and lots and lots of experience in clinic. This only comes with time. And even still, there remains endless knowledge to be obtained.

It is daunting being at the foot of this mountain of eye-related things we have yet to conquer. By breaking it down step-by-step, our goal of climbing that mountain and becoming the doctors we want to be will hopefully become more tangible. After all, there are plenty of former student doctors who experienced all of the same feelings of frustration and fear that we have in optometry school. If they can become successful optometrists, why not us? It is so tempting to fall into the egotistical trap of acting like we do not need any help. This attitude, however, will not help any of our future patients. We must take each patient encounter as a learning experience to become better and give ourselves the grace to learn. By pushing ourselves to shamelessly ask questions in clinic and be surrounded by more knowledgeable people, we will slowly become knowledgeable ourselves. Then one day, maybe we will have student doctors looking up to us.

Student Experience

Reflections

We’re all familiar with the optical phenomenon of a reflection; a wavefront enters a system, bounces off a reflecting surface and travels back to the medium from which it came. Reflection has multiple meanings, though, and to me it has been one of the most important words in my life. A reflection is so much more than something that I look at in the mirror every morning. It is a view that is deeper into an individual than any gonio or fundus lens can achieve. To me, a reflection is a glance at the characteristics that someone possesses that remind me of myself. For example, when I see my younger cousins being playful and competitive with each other, I see those traits as a reflection of my younger self.

My name is Tim Davis, and I am a second-year optometry student at the University of Houston College of Optometry. I am originally from Columbus, Ohio. I grew up in Columbus city limits and attended public school for the first couple of years of my life. In the third grade, my family moved from the city to the suburbs. I remember the adjustment that I had to make in my life, trying to fit into a new environment and make new friends. Little did I know at the time, this transition into the suburbs would allow me to meet my now best friends and make a connection to the greatest reflection that I’ve ever encountered in my life. One of my best friend’s mothers happened to be an optometrist, one that I saw a reflection of myself in. In her, I saw myself and all my dreams and aspirations standing before me as a proud Black doctor. As I got older, I understood the value of being connected to her more and more, and having her guidance and mentorship has been truly invaluable in my life. The exposure that I was able to get to the field of optometry at a young age, and the representation and success that she had in her life is what I believe ignited the fire and sparked the passion inside of me to achieve greater.

As I write this piece now, I can’t help but think of all the reflections that I see when I fly back home to visit my family. All the potential that resides within each one of my little cousins and other family members to become doctors, lawyers, engineers or whatever they desire to become in their lives. This same potential extends past my family, it’s to my people as a whole.  It brings me anguish to realize the inequalities that plague the lives of many people who look like me, and this harsh reality has driven me to want to make a change. I want to bring awareness to these issues of inequality and to promote and enact change in the future so that more people who look like me can tap into their true potential. In an effort to inform the community, I have created a podcast entitled “Thoughts with TD the Future OD,” which highlights my personal experiences with diversity in the field, some of the systemic barriers that people like me face, and how we can move forward to diversify the field of optometry in the future.

In conclusion, I know that I am blessed to be in the position that I’m in right now in my life. I know that my achievements come on the heels of generations of hard work and sacrifice. I am dedicated to bringing awareness and enacting change in whatever way I can to make life better for the future generations. I want to look around and see more reflections every day, living their best lives and tapping into their true potential.

 

Link to my podcast: https://open.spotify.com/show/31YOZGXBTzD8sKtZ1jlEhi?si=Ne4DBCxyTUqPlakJesvKIg

Student Experience

The Fear of Finding Something

It’s spring semester of your second year of optometry school; you’ve finally made it to the most exciting and important step in your optometric journey: clinic. On your first day, you gather all of your things — your lens set, retinoscopy handles, prism set, BIO and your trusty tonometer tip — and head into the University Eye Center. You find your room and clean your machines. Your classmate opens the EHR and, by the luck of the draw, you have a patient.

A 30-year-old, white female walks into your room, sits in your exam chair and is ready for the fun to begin. Upon a gross anterior segment examination, you find a resounding case of corneal neovascularization—and you panic. The fear sets in. You’ve only had two weeks of ant seg classes. Are you supposed to know what’s causing this? Does she abuse her contact lenses? Does she have limbal stem cell deficiency? Or could she have a severe case of Fuchs endothelial cell dystrophy? Your head is filling with possibilities. Your hands are sweaty; you’re visibly shaking— what do you do next?

I’ve found that this is a common fear among second years and newbie student clinicians, but with a little less of the drama. We practice on young, healthy, relatively normal eyes in all of our labs. Except for the few cases of strabismus or corneal scarring, most of my classmates are only battling varying amounts of ametropia and astigmatism. I so desperately want to learn how to be a good clinician, how to identify diseases and oddities on my first day in clinic, but the only way to succeed in achieving this is by seeing abnormalities in person. Pictures can only be so helpful. The eyes in them aren’t blinking or photophobic or constantly moving to find something to fixate on. It’s scary to find something even slightly different than normal on a real, paying patient.

As much as I was hoping to see something cool in clinic my first day, I also found myself hoping that I didn’t see anything at all. What if I misdiagnose them? What if I find something vision-threatening and they need emergency treatment? What if I see something so bizarre that I can’t even begin to explain it to my scribe? The fear can be all-consuming, but it’s comforting to know that everyone has been there, even the most well-renowned doctors saw corneal arcus for the first time and started shaking.

The most important thing to remember is that we’re not alone in the clinic. We have so many resources and minds to help us make the correct diagnosis and treatment plan for our patients. And when in doubt, don’t be afraid to ask for help — that’s literally what all the precepting doctors are getting paid to do. In the end, the fear will make us all incredibly knowledgeable and competent doctors of optometry someday very, very soon.

Student Experience / Health & Wellness

Why I took a gap year and what I did to remain a competitive applicant for optometry school

Taking a gap year was the best decision I’ve made during my application process. Instead of rushing to fit a certain timeline, I decided to take a mental break from school and spend more time expanding my patient care experience. This extra time before optometry school helped me become a better prepared and more confident applicant when completing my applications.

Before graduating college, I knew I wanted to spend my gap year before optometry school exploring different practice modalities. The idea of working in an OD/MD group practice has always intrigued me and I was lucky enough to find a job opportunity working as a medical scribe for an ophthalmology/optometry practice located in my hometown. I’ve had prior experience working in patient care, but this job expanded my knowledge of the optometry profession completely beyond an annual eye exam. I was exposed to a range of specialties in optometry such as pediatrics, low vision, ocular disease management and myopia control. The doctors of optometry and ophthalmologists worked closely as a team to handle many post- operative appointments for cataract and pterygium surgery follow-ups. This was a side of optometry I didn’t even know existed! As time progressed, I became more comfortable interacting with patients coming from different age groups and cultures. I even got to assist with in-clinic procedures, such as punctal plug insertions, laser peripheral iridotomies and medical Botox® appointments! This would not have been possible for me if I didn’t decide to take a break from academics.

Prior to this year, I was certain optometry was the right profession for me. After taking a gap year to explore my specific interests, I have a clearer vision of what kind of optometrist I strive to be. Completing applications, finishing prerequisites and taking the OAT exam is an understandably stressful timeline to meet. Optometry school will have many challenges, both mentally and physically, so ensuring that you’re in the right mental state to prepare for its challenges is crucial. A gap year can be a wonderful opportunity to further your experience, maturity and character development, and I recommend it for every pre- optometry student!

Student Experience

The Fear of Finding Something

It’s spring semester of your second year of optometry school; you’ve finally made it to the most exciting and important step in your optometric journey: clinic. On your first day, you gather all of your things— your lens set, retinoscopy handles, prism set, BIO and your trusty tonometer tip—and head into the University Eye Center. You find your room and clean your machines. Your classmate opens the EHR and, by the luck of the draw, you have a patient. A 30-year-old, white female walks into your room, sits in your exam chair and is ready for the fun to begin. Upon a gross anterior segment examination, you find a resounding case of corneal neovascularization—and you panic. The fear sets in. You’ve only had two weeks of ant seg classes. Are you supposed to know what’s causing this? Does she abuse her contact lenses? Does she have limbal stem cell deficiency? Or could she have a severe case of Fuchs endothelial cell dystrophy? Your head is filling with possibilities. Your hands are sweaty; you’re visibly shaking— what do you do next?

I’ve found that this is a common fear among second years and newbie student clinicians, but with a little less of the drama. We practice on young, healthy, relatively normal eyes in all of our labs. Except for the few cases of strabismus or corneal scarring, most of my classmates are only battling varying amounts of ametropia and astigmatism. I so desperately want to learn how to be a good clinician, how to identify diseases and oddities on my first day in clinic, but the only way to succeed in achieving this is by seeing abnormalities in person. Pictures can only be so helpful. The eyes in them aren’t blinking or photophobic or constantly moving to find something to fixate on. It’s scary to find something even slightly different than normal on a real, paying patient. As much as I was hoping to see something cool in clinic my first day, I also found myself hoping that I didn’t see anything at all. What if I misdiagnose them? What if I find something vision-threatening and they need emergency treatment? What if I see something so bizarre that I can’t even begin to explain it to my scribe? The fear can be all-consuming, but it’s comforting to know that everyone has been there, even the most well-renowned doctors saw corneal arcus for the first time and started shaking. The most important thing to remember is that we’re not alone in the clinic. We have so many resources and minds to help us make the correct diagnosis and treatment plan for our patients. And when in doubt, don’t be afraid to ask for help— that’s literally what all the precepting doctors are getting paid to do. In the end, the fear will make us all incredibly knowledgeable and competent doctors of optometry someday very, very soon.