Twelve Years. Six Doctors. None of Them Showed Me This.
For about eight years, the first thing I did every morning was put drops in my eyes.
Then I'd microwave a heated mask. Apply it. Wait. Put more drops in.
Then start my actual day.
By the time I sat down at my laptop, my eyes were already burning again.
I'm an HR Manager at a company with about 200 employees.
I'm in front of a screen for ten hours a day - emails, video calls, spreadsheets, performance reviews.
By 2pm, my vision would blur. I'd squint at documents.
By 5pm, my eyes were so red that people started asking if I was okay.
I told them I had allergies.
I'd had 'allergies' for twelve years.
I stopped driving at night two years ago.
Oncoming headlights created halos so painful I'd flinch.
My husband started driving me home from anything that ran past dark.
I wasn't sleeping well either. I'd wake up at 3am with eyes that felt packed with sand.
The first thing I reached for, in the dark, was the bottle of drops on my nightstand.
The presentation
that broke me
In April of last year, I was leading our annual benefits review. Thirty senior leaders on Zoom. I'd built the deck myself.
Ten minutes in, I couldn't read my own slides.
My eyes were watering so badly the words blurred together. I lost my place. I misread a number on the screen. Someone gently corrected me.
My boss DM'd me privately. "Susan, are you okay?"
I tried to keep going.
Two slides later, he unmuted. "Why don't we have Mark take it from here."
I muted my mic and turned off my camera.
I listened to Mark present the rest of my deck.
I felt humiliated.
But mostly, I felt scared.
That night I told my husband I didn't know how much longer I could keep doing my job like this.
Six doctors. The same drops.
I'd seen six different eye doctors over twelve years.
The first prescribed artificial tears and told me to take more screen breaks.
The second told me to do warm compresses every night. I did. For two years.
The third gave me Restasis. "Give it six months." Six months later, the same.
The fourth prescribed Xiidra. It burned so badly I cried after the first dose.
The fifth said I should "learn to live with it."
The sixth looked at my eyes for ninety seconds, said everything looked fine, and suggested a humidifier.
I sat in the parking lot afterward and cried.
Maybe this really was just my life now.
The math
I added it up once, sitting at my kitchen table.
For drops that helped for forty-five minutes.
And my eyes were getting worse.
The workshop I
almost didn't attend
A few weeks after the Zoom call, I saw an ad for a free workshop.
An optometrist was teaching about dry eye disease.
I almost didn't go.
I was so tired of being told to use more drops. I figured this was someone trying to sell me something.
I went anyway. Sat in the back row. Planned to leave early.
I didn't leave early.
The thing nobody had
told me in twelve years
The doctor started with a question.
"How many of you use drops, feel better for a bit, and then feel dry again?"
Almost every hand in the room went up.
Mine too.
For twelve years, I'd been told my eyes weren't producing enough tears.
So I put drops in. Stronger drops. Prescription drops.
What the doctor showed us - with diagrams, with patient photos - was that for most chronic dry eye sufferers, the problem isn't moisture.
It's oil.
Your tears have layers.
The top layer is oil. It acts like a lid that keeps the rest from evaporating.
When the glands that make that oil get clogged, your tears dry up as fast as you can put them in.
You can pour drops in all day. They'll keep evaporating.
It was like someone had finally explained the rules of a game I'd been losing for twelve years.
She told us one more thing I wish I'd learned in 2013.
The glands don't grow back.
Once they atrophy, they're gone.
Every year I'd spent on drops, I'd been losing glands I couldn't get back.
The decision
After the workshop, I asked about treatment.
She explained that modern dry eye care uses RF or IPL. Radiofrequency or intense pulsed light. About thirty minutes in the office.
Then she said insurance wouldn't cover it.
I almost walked out.
Not because I couldn't afford it.
Because every time I'd spent money on my eyes, I'd ended up disappointed.
I wasn't afraid of the cost.
I was afraid of being wrong again.
After twelve years and thousands of dollars on things that didn't work...
Paying out-of-pocket for anything related to my eyes made my stomach turn.
She didn't pressure anyone. She showed before-and-after images of her own patients' glands. She said we could go home and think about it.
I sat in my car in the parking lot doing math.
What I'd already spent on drops that didn't work was more than the treatment cost.
And the drops were a recurring expense. Forever.
The treatment wasn't.
I went back inside and signed up before I left.
I forgot about my eyes
The first session was easy. Warm, quick, and calm. No pain.
That night I read in bed for forty-five minutes without drops.
I hadn't done that in nearly a decade.
By the third session, I drove home from a 8pm work dinner without thinking about my eyes once.
I cried a little in the car.
Not because anything was wrong.
Because I'd forgotten what it felt like to just exist without managing my own body.
Before
- Drops every 45 minutes
- Eyes burning by 2pm
- Couldn't drive at night
- Pretending it was allergies
- Planning my day around my eyes
After
- Read in bed without drops
- Forgot about my eyes for hours
- Drove home from a 8pm dinner
- Stopped explaining my eyes
- Got my life back
What I tell my friends now
I wasted twelve years trying to fix the wrong problem.
If I'd known about my oil glands back then, I'd have done this years ago.
I'd have my forties back.
The only thing I regret about that workshop is sitting in my car for thirty minutes pretending I needed to "think about it" before signing up.
I'd already spent twelve years thinking about it. I just hadn't known what to think about.
If any of this sounds like you...
The drops that don't last, the doctors who don't listen, the years of being told to "just live with it"...
Please don't wait another year.
The workshop is free.
I wish I'd gone in 2013.
Add the workshop to your calendar.
You already saved your seat.
At the workshop, you'll learn what finally helped Susan:
- Why drops may only help temporarily
- What's actually happening inside your eyelids
- How to know if your glands may still be treatable
- Whether the treatment Susan described might be right for you
There's no obligation. No high-pressure sales.
Just answers.
Many of them for the first time.
Add the Workshop to My Calendar