So this is how it happened: One day, I woke up, and I’m a third year.

No, seriously, it felt that way. Every once in a while, I get the feeling that school is never going to end, and I’m just going to drown in huge piles of assignments, labs, practicals and exams. Then, one day, it was all over. There’s no more pharmacology to study for, we just have to know it for clinic. No more PAP observation sessions, we’re going to be in our own rooms as student clinicians now. I felt so free, that it was almost a little empty. I say “almost” because who am I kidding?

The hardest part of second year
The toughest thing this year was staying focused. I worked extremely hard first year, and I think I just got tired second year. It’s as if I ran out of steam or something. I sometimes forget that optometry school is more similar to a marathon than a sprint. So this year, I give myself a little more “me” time to relax. If I’ve already studied for nine hours non-stop, and the walls are starting to talk to me, it’s probably time to stop and take a break. Guess what? It worked out just fine.

This happened so many times to me this year, and many ICO students can relate. If it happens to you, it’s time to take a break, get a cup of coffee, breathe, and move on.

The most exciting things about second year
Three-mirror gonioscopy was probably the most feared lab/practical before we learned the technique. We all cringed every time we thought that someone in our class is going to put a “contact lens” directly on our eye, and then spin it while it’s still on our eye. I bet you guys got goosebumps reading that. As big of a drama queen as I am, 3-mirror gonioscopy is definitely is one of the easier techniques to sit for and to perform. Once the anesthetic was on, I didn’t feel a thing! What you would actually feel is the Schirmer test you do in Ocular Disease lab with Dr. Gunderson, and Physical Diagnosis lab with Dr. Gabriel.

I thought I was going to cry with this piece of paper in my eye. I wish I did, because the test would have ended sooner. Remember this is how my patients would feel.

The most difficult technique I learned this year has to be dynamic BIO. It was challenging because we have to be ambidextrous, we have to work with a teaching mirror that has a lot of glare, and also because we are dilated while we are practicing most of the time (and I stay dilated for more than 6 hours at a time). After many many weeknights and weekends of practice, it felt really satisfying to successfully pass all my practicals! I remember how I used to think This is impossible, I’m never going to learn this, but we’re left in the hands of some really good TAs and professors in lab, so believe me when I tell you now: it can be–and will be–done! 

BIO photo courtesy of Jonathan Dong (director of ICO’s Macklemore parody music video.) Don’t forget to like the video!

The most fun that I’ve had in lab this year is the foreign body removal lab. Here’s a recap of Fun with Foreign Bodies: 

Cow’s eye suspended on the slit lamp

A close-up shot. We used our tools from our foreign body removal kit to get a feel of what it would feel like to work on a real cornea, how much force we need to use, etc.

We first used the spud (something that looks like a micro golf club to remove the metal piece from the “cornea” (which is made of gelatin), and then our alger brush to remove the rust ring left by the little bits of iron.

Celebrating the end of second year
All good things must come to an end, and good endings must be done with fantastic celebrations. I missed my roommate’s birthday last year because I was in a huge rush to go home after finals ended. So to make up for it, I organized a surprise birthday party in addition to our celebration for the end of second year.

What better way to celebrate than pitchers of margaritas? A toast to the end of second year!

Tests were conquered, energy drinks were had, deeper friendships were made, museums were visited, and new restaurants were tried. I can’t wait to see my first patient in two weeks and give you guys funny stories and more interesting tidbits of student life in Chicago. I hope I learn to be a better clinician with every year that I attend ICO.

Next challange: board exams. Wish me luck!

Truth: Being a TA is one of the most fun positions I’ve ever held.

It’s like being backstage on a TV show and seeing how many things go into a course before it’s ready for public viewing. It’s also like watching a blooper reel and seeing how even when it’s supposed to be serious (foreign body in the eye!!), no one can stop laughing at the Jello inside the Dixie Cup.

I’ve had the good fortune to TA for several first and second year courses this year. If you have even the slightest desire, I’d recommend it. Not only is it a great review for that tiny test we all have to take, it’s fun to watch how the labs go down from the other side.

My first lab practical was Entrance Testing. I was young, naive, and innocent. Okay, I was never innocent, but I was younger. There is something about wearing your ironed white coat for the first time and sitting in those plastic chairs on the third floor that makes your blood pressure spike. I think there is also less oxygen in those exam rooms, because it is unreal how delusional I get the second I walk in there.

I remember being panicked that I didn’t have a second to spare to wait for my PD ruler to dry from the alcohol swab, so I started shaking it in the air, as I screamed “Okay, I’m just going to clean the ruler before we get started!” To my horror (and I’m sure my proctor’s amusement), I shook it so hard it flung out of my hands. Me, my patient, and the proctor all watched that ruler fly in slow-motion and land on the floor–now needing to be cleaned again. I stared at it for what felt like 2 minutes. And then I screamed, “Okay, I’m just going to clean that again!”

And look at me now! I don’t even use my PD ruler anymore!

Being a TA is like being a therapist, a tutor, a friend, a diplomat, a translator, and a disciplinarian. It’s being a benevolent colleague to those who need it, and a ruthless dictator to those other punks (you know who you are).

It’s re-learning the right way to do things, since you do it all wrong in clinic now–like confrontation visual fields. What once started as, “Looking at my nose, do you see all the parts of my face? Is anything distorted, missing, or unclear?” followed by some jazz hand brightness has been truncated to “Do you notice my fingers moving? Okay, cool.”

It’s pretending like you know how to palpate the thyroid gland like a boss, even though the last time you did it was 12 months ago.

It’s assigning people to eat candy, sleep on their tummies, or ride a stationary bicycle for an hour to see how their intraocular pressure changes.

It’s pointing things out on a histo slide of the juxtaglomerular complex and pretending you like looking at a histo slide of the juxtaglomerular complex.

It’s grading papers in class.

It’s creepily knowing people’s names and box numbers that you haven’t met before, and secretly admiring their handwriting.

It’s gently pushing people to slam that tonometry probe against the cornea. No one’s got time for hovering.

It’s finally learning what a trope looks like on a cover test, and not just saying “ortho!” and moving on.

It’s remembering why keratometry is important, but trying to get out of doing it anyways.

It’s owning a red Sharpie and busting it out like a weapon, but then putting “Excellent job!” on every homework.

It’s trying to keep a straight face when someone forgets to switch eyes for direct and plants an accidental smooch on their patient.

It’s not being able to keep a straight face when someone says “cervix” instead of “cervical chain” while palpating for lymph nodes.

It’s practicing a new type of yoga as you bend and writhe in every which direction to look through the teaching mirror while someone is doing dynamic BIO.

It’s forgetting you aren’t there to socialize, even though that’s more fun than explaining Von Herrick angles.

It’s unbridled frustration when someone takes 10 minutes to scan every single lash on the lower lid margin and announce “Lashes are clear!”–and then feeling humbled when I remember it took me 20 minutes, and I was out of focus.

It’s getting to access the locked cupboards in the lab. I’ve said too much.

It’s the sadistic glow of watching your peers wait in those plastic chairs outside the exam lanes. It does wonders to your skin.

It’s being the voice of reason, because you’ve been through it already.

It’s getting to hold the timer and scream “START” and “STOP” with unrestrained glee because you know someone just dropped their PD ruler on the ground.

It’s the terror that your little baby geese won’t do well.

It’s the joy when they all make it through, unscathed.

Ultimately, it’s the recognition of how much you’ve learned in two years. To think we started doing retinoscopy without looking through the retinoscope! We used to be terrified at the thought of gonio, lest our corneas get suctioned off, and dynamic BIO gave everyone NVD. Now, at the end of the road, you realize it’s just like dropping your PD ruler on the ground. At first it knocks the wind out of you—but at the end of the day, you get back on the saddle and do it right the second time.

Be a TA if you get the chance–if only to see what’s in those locked cupboards.

Taking a diversion from studies by venturing downtown is always a welcome idea when possible. Last weekend marked the last “free” weekend my classmates and I have this year. Our spring quarter final exams begin Saturday and continue through to next Saturday. And in a mere 10 days–albeit ones that will certainly drag on and on–our first year at ICO will be completed.

Last Friday, a group of us attended a performance of the Joffrey Ballet’s “Othello” at the Auditorium Theatre in the Loop, a short 20-minute trip by bus from campus. We got there an hour before showtime to purchase “student rush” tickets. Normally, tickets range from $31 to $152, but we bought ours for $15. Our seating was in the 300 level, but by some luck, one of us received a ticket of the same price for seating on the floor level. When the curtains rose, we enjoyed a truly stellar experience, made amazing by the expressive acting and heightened drama.

The world-class Joffrey dancers performed “Othello” in three acts. The story is classic Shakespeare: love and jealousy, deceit and betrayal, drama and tragedy. Assisted by great costumes and captivating music, the dancers beautifully expressed the tale of the Moor of Venice, in a way that put us at the edge of our seats and made us want to take ballet.

May is here!

I have been looking forward to this month for a very long time. Our last set of exams. Our last lectures. Our last clicker questions–followed by a scurry of movement as everyone tries to unearth their clickers from the depths of their backpacks and click something before the timer runs out. (For the record, my clicker has been covered in jam, glue, ink splatter, and tea leaves, and has perpetually been “low battery.” I will cherish that clicker until the day I die–or until someone offers me a dollar on the ICO Marketplace.)

However as much glee and impending joy that this month represents, it is with a unique sadness that we say goodbye to ICO. As our class embarks on externships, ranging from the shores of Hawaii, the excitement of Spain, the opulence of Dubai, and the Tim Hortons of Toronto, it is the first time in a long time that our class will be apart.

I think it is safe to say that the class of 2014 is awesome.

We started study groups on Facebook when everyone else was still on MySpace.

My first memory of ICO and our class was orientation, in what can only be described as the three most humid days ever, when I tried to allay the fears of terrified Wisconsinites be telling them they could call me Siva instead of Shivakhaami. It’s okay. Aside from one arch nemesis, Wisconsinites are my favorites.

I have vague memories of those first few days. Mostly I remember going out every night and being confused every morning. What is an ophthalmoscope and why are they talking about it? I remember the word “professionalism” being threaded into every sentence, and standing in line to buy a refrigerator in the RC with my suitemate. I remember getting a gargantuan stack of notes, bound with black clips, and to my abject horror, learning they were only for the first quarter. I remember coloring in the vagus nerve and laryngeal nerve and optic nerve. I remember hating the Pentose Phosphate Pathway. I remember learning that the iris sphincter isn’t under voluntary control unless you are the Dalai Lama, in which case, all bets are off.

I remember meeting my best friend Caroline at the “Big House Party” after ICO Olympics–and the terrifying experience at the 35th Street McDonalds afterwards that forever solidified our friendship. I guess this is the adult version of spitting on your palms and shaking them, because nothing bonds people together like fear and French fries.

First year is a flurry of emotions and an assault to all your senses. It is learning a new language. It is pushing your mind and body to limits they haven’t been pushed to before. It is crying in the study room in the RC, seeing the sunrise because you are still studying, sleeping during the day like the nocturnal mammal you have become, and eating four cookies during lunch at the cafeteria (because five is glutinous). I remember watching the Thundersnow blizzard of 2011 engulf the school for two days, allowing for an impromptu party, sledding and snowball fights.

Second year was more comfortable. We knew the shortcuts around the school, the only vending machine that had Sour Skittles, and finally what an ophthalmoscope was. I learned that there is nothing like a quick bike ride to 31st Street Beach to calm my nerves, and that Jimmy John’s can deliver to the library in four minutes. As we replaced our coloring pencils for “Drug of the Day,” we settled into ICO like the cool kids we had become. And as the anxiety waned, we started dressing better. You could always tell who had PCP that day, because no one chooses to wear a tie or tights on their own accord. We pranked Dr. Lesher on April Fool’s Day by all wearing matching blue shirts, and subsequently bought him a pink shirt to spice up his wardrobe.

Which brings us to third year. The summer was marked by the realization that I had gone from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. without stopping, and that I was operating on such a high level of adrenaline that I was in a constant state of fight or flight. I apologize to anyone I punched in the face during summer quarter–it was my sympathetic nervous system talking. With clinic shifts and CPS and dispensing and Retina (throw in Baby and Contacts and online Evidence Based Health Care quizzes that I managed to fail every time!) it’s a wonder I made it through. I think that was the quarter that glued our class together–there was always someone to commiserate with. In our mutual despondency, our class became one. I’m pretty sure Rihanna’s song “We found Love (In a Hopeless Place)” is written about summer quarter.

Full disclosure: I’m just trying to scare you. It wasn’t that bad.

I think we can all agree that the best thing about third year is clinic. There is never a dull moment within the four walls of the IEI. It took me three quarters to figure out how to carry my suitcase, trial lenses, and BIO. It took me until last week to find the elevator. It took one ill-fated turn of the wrist to spill all my trial lenses on the ground. However, it was with undeniable relish that I crossed my name off the board after I finished my first shift–and then ran after the poor woman to apologize for what I was certain was the wrong prescription.

Everyone finishes third year with their own “clinical pearls.” Most are not the pearls that will help you in any facet of life, but they are the kind of thing that will still make you laugh years after you have left ICO.

I still laugh when I think about the woman who asked me if her co-worker was giving her the “stank eye” at the end of the day, because the left eye would drift out and point at her while the right eye looked straight ahead. No dear, that’s just a decompensated phoria that’s troping–don’t give her the cut eye back. I made more than one child turn against me when I insisted that Fluress “just tickles” and that if they looked straight ahead at the blue light, they’d see Mickey Mouse. I have reigned in my temper when patient’s bury their lashes because they are clamping their eyes shut but insist they are open during BIO. I just went with it when my little nine-year-old patient reached over and started stroking my hair, and took the opportunity to check her pupils. I choked back my surprise when a voluptuous woman proceeded to undress herself when I asked her to roll up her sweater so I could take her blood pressure. I smiled for days after my 75- year-old patient told me “if he was just 50 years younger,” he would have proposed. I contemplated wearing my PAP polo shirt out in Chicago, seeing as I got more attention in that outfit than any other article of clothing I possessed.

And everyone has their favorite story. The one that makes your heart skip a beat. Mine was a 40-year-old cerebral palsy patient who didn’t speak, but was animated, joyful and full of life despite arriving for her appointment on a gurney. I took off my heels and did retinoscopy on my knees to get her prescription, and despite the challenges her case presented, we laughed with each other. When she pointed to the words “Thank you” after her eye exam, I nearly cried.

So as we embark on our externships and start forcing ourselves to branch out from our ICO cocoon. I would be remiss if I didn’t give shout-outs to some of the most defining events of our three years at school.

Who could forget our massive confusion during retinoscopy and the “at” versus “axis” debate? Who didn’t shed a tear when Dr. Z talked about the importance of family before our Thanksgiving break, or feel a renewed sense of confidence when Dr. Baker talked about his marathon? Who didn’t sheepishly pretend they knew what was going on during dark adaptation, because it was “extremely basic”? Who amongst us didn’t exfoliate our feet prior to Dr. Gabriel’s lab, just in case we got Babinski-ed? And who didn’t feel the vestiges of fear finally wane after Boards, only to be replaced by the terror that we’d be injecting each other in the eyeballs?

And before you know it, not only are you done with ICO–ICO is done with you. All the tests have been taken, all the PP fossas have been demystified, you stopped worrying your prescriptions were wrong, and you figured out where the elevators were. Perhaps it won’t be until well after ICO that we can truly appreciate our class for all its wonder–but remember, some people want to come to ICO so bad, they’ll drive their car right through the courtyard.

Take the time to enjoy your classmates. Yes, we are all annoying. Yes, all we can talk about is school, even when we try not to. But May comes at you like a freight train. These are the people you feel like you’ve known forever. You’ve seen each other at your worst and at your best. They will probably be your bridesmaids or your groomsmen, and let’s face it–they’ve looked deep into your eyes and that’s a bond that can’t be shaken.

Don’t worry too much about grades–you win some, you lose some.

Don’t feel bad that you spent the entire night on Facebook–it happens.

Watch your classmates play in the championship hockey game and sabotage the other team at all costs.

Learn the city and province your Canadian friends are from–they will love you forever.

Enjoy Chicago and all the amazing things it has to offer–and most of all, enjoy it with the people around you. It goes by fast.

And don’t tell a cheeky kid there is a Mickey Mouse on your tonometry probe–you will rue the day.

To be invited to join BSK, you need a 3.5 GPA after you complete first year, and to maintain a slightly lower GPA requirement in subsequent years at ICO. It’s a club to promote academic excellence, and it’s great to have on your resume when you’re finally ready to look for a job post-graduation. Another major bonus is that you get cords at graduation and there’s an annual banquet at a fancy restaurant. 

This year, we went out for lunch at Wildfire.

As you can see, all the tables were pretty filled up

Here’s the look of our menu at the banquet. I thought we were going to choose between each dish, but as it turns out, we get all of them, and shared!

My roommate walked faster than I did there to make sure we get a good seat, and we did! We sat with some lovely ladies who are also in second year, and unlike the other tables, we had two empty seats, so we had extra food as well!

So we started with bread and butter. It tasted a little bit garlicky, I wasn’t sure if it was the taste of the bread or coming from the butter, but it tasted very fresh and delicious. I’m normally not even a fan of bread, but it was yummy enough that I had seconds. It was soft with a light crisp crust, just the way I like my bread.

The baked goat cheese dip was my favorite item of the night. I thought I wasn’t a fan of goat cheese, but I was so wrong (I must have mixed it up with blue cheese or something). The bread had the texture of a lightly baked pizza crust, but with spices. I thought it looked like a pizza with sauce and toppings in a separate bowl, but when I tasted it with the cheese and marinara sauce on top, my taste buds were very impressed, more impressed than they would be with a pizza.

We actually had salad too, but I think I got so hungry at this point, that I just focused on eating and forgot about pictures. Lucky for you, the salad wasn’t anything special. We had a little tray of various salad dressing to choose from, and a plate with lettuce, tomatoes, egg, croutons, carrots (things you find in a normal house salad). I mean, I got my vegetables in, but I wouldn’t be craving to come back to the restaurant for the salad. For the baked goat cheese though? You bet!

This little meaty dish of carnivorous indulgence was definitely worth raving about.  I normally like my steaks rare to medium rare, since I like the juices of the meat to be oozing out with every bite (I picture well done steaks like chewing cardboard). The tenderloin at Wildfire was incredibly tender–and it was not dry at all! In fact, it was packed with the perfect amount of flavor and juices. I would hopefully go back to Wildfire for this someday.

I’m a beef-lover. I cook chicken most of the time at home because it’s easy, but when I go out, I always go with the beef option. I didn’t try the chicken because I saved precious stomach space for the tenderloin, but the ones who did try the chicken at my table preferred the beef as well. It looked yummy nonetheless!

If you looked at the menu and tried to figure out why I didn’t take pictures of the vegetables and potatoes, I’m sorry, they looked like your standard normal veggies and potatoes. I promise you if it was sculpted into the shape of a lotus flower or something, I’d take a picture of it for you. I would like to add though, that the mashed potatoes were very good, light and buttery, with the skin mixed in.

I think all the best meals in the world need to end with a dessert so awesome, that it’s worth loosening your belt and gaining some healthy dessert weight. We were all extremely full by the end of the main course (remember, we had extra food too), but alas, there’s always space for dessert if one tries hard enough. The triple layer chocolate cake was rich, but it wasn’t too sweet at all. I’m a dark chocolate lover, and this was just about right for my picky palate. The whipped cream and the chocolate chunks were good, too.

But I really had my eyes set on the next dish. I love ice cream. I eat it when I’m sad, I eat it when I’m happy, I eat it when I’m stressed, it’s been there for me more than some of my closest friends. So what better way to wrap up lunch than to eat ice cream with fresh berries?

I thought dessert was the best way to end the event, but actually, the raffle prize drawing topped it all off perfectly. Unfortunately, I didn’t win anything, but if I keep up the hard work, hopefully I’ll be attending this banquet again next year at another great restaurant.

Drawing names for gift cards to Starbucks, Target and iTunes.

Frugal students must always remember to ask if we can take extra food home. We make sure nothing goes to waste, and we can save money and effort come dinner time.

We even got to leave with a cookie to take home on our way out.

There was no boring ceremony, no long list of names to be called. The banquet was just a way to recognize the people who put in a lot of effort in getting good grades and learning the best that they can to be the best optometrist they can be. For me, it was another wonderful afternoon of enjoying great food with even better company.

Why do I bring this up?  Because I was able to participate in my classmate Jonathan Dong’s video submission of “Thrift Opt”–a parody of the Macklemore & Ryan Lewis hit “Thrift Shop.” With more than 50,000 views on YouTube in under a month, it’s certifiably viral. If you haven’t seen it, check it out:

Now if you look closely, you can find me, along with many fellow first years, dancing away in the back of numerous scenes. These scenes were shot in many locations including the RC, the IEI clinic, and a secret spot in the depths of Chinatown. It was a blast being able to participate in such a fun idea, not to mention a great way to get my mind off schoolwork for a few hours. I’m excited as ever to find out how this video stacks up to the competition, but I don’t know when the winners are announced. Submissions were due several weeks ago, so hopefully we’ll get some positive feedback soon! In the meantime, keeping liking the video on YouTube to increase ICO’s chances of bringing home first place and giving optometry a good showing to the healthcare community.

Here’s a few behind-the-scenes pictures of the filming process:

Jon performing his directorial duties

The class of 2016 dancing it up in the Eyepod

Shooting out in our secret Chinatown location

The whole video was written, directed, shot and edited by Jon. Since this is one of the many projects we’ve seen him accomplish over this first year, I asked him a few questions regarding his latest achievement.

What prompted the idea of creating the “Thrift Opt” parody video?
It was just an idea that popped up in my head one day! Since I am a videographer in my free time, I’ve been looking for a project to do here at ICO. When it turned out that we had dancers and actors in our class, I knew we had to make a music video of some sort sometime. Macklemore was huge back in Seattle where I’m from, and so one day when I had “Thrift Shop” stuck in my head, the lyrics came to me, “I’m gonna pop some adds…”

Between writing the lyrics, filming, editing, etc., what parts of the process did you enjoy the most?
Definitely the most fun part of it all is the filming. That’s when everyone gets to come out and it was kind of like a big party!

Have you done anything similar to this in the past?
I’ve produced a couple music videos in the past for musicians back in Seattle. My last couple of videos before this one were with a singer named Tess Henley, I did the production for the official music videos for her songs “Daydreaming” and “From The Get Go.”

What do you think our chances are in bringing home first place for this year’s memmy award?
We might have some stiff competition from medical schools, but I think optometry’s got a pretty good shot this year!

So now that you are a campus celebrity, has anything changed for you when walking the halls of the RC or ICO?
At one of our last school optometry meetings (the Practice Opportunities Symposium), one of the visiting ODs stopped Rich and I while we were walking, points at Rich and says, “Hey. You’re poppin’ adds, right?” Rich’s very appropriate reply, “Yep, I’m poppin’ adds.” It’s already so easy to get to know people at ICO, I’m glad it’s opened some doors to meeting with people outside of school.

Tip: If you dream of opening a practice one day, you’ll want to visit some existing ones before you open your own. You’ll learn a lot at ICO, but there are things that you can only learn outside the classroom. Plus, you’ll be sitting in the same room all year, so field trips are a nice change of learning environment. It’s worth your while, I promise. 

Dr. Margolis’ office is inside this huge medical building, where the office gets so busy, sometimes the parking lot isn’t big enough to fit all the cars of patients.

Dr. Neil Margolis, an ICO alum, was kind enough to host members of ICO’s College of Optometrists in Vision Development club and Neuro-Optometric Rehabilitation Association student group at his suburban practice. He blocked off an entire afternoon to teach us things we might never learn in our normal optometric academic curriculum. His practice specializes in working with patients that have visual-spatial processing, tracking, or other binocular vision issues that may negatively affect academic learning and visual attention. Children compose the biggest portion of his practice, and from this visit, I could really sense that he cares about them.

After giving us an office tour, Dr. Margolis discussed how he came to build such a successful practice, imparted clinical pearls of wisdom and printed out lots of reading material for us.

What I observed (extremely abridged):
1. Humility
I took notes as Dr. Margolis spoke, as much as I could, but I don’t think I was a fast enough writer to fully recall everything that he explained. He came across as an extremely humble man. “I have no ego,” he said while addressing how he treats his staff. I believe him. There are optometrists with egos–I’ve worked with one before, so I know what they’re like–and this isn’t the story with him at all. This is the story of an optometrist who sits on the floor to interact with his young patients, so he’s not intimidating. That’s what I have always imagined the perfect doctor to be like–one who doesn’t demand respect just from owning the title of a doctor, but actually deserves it for what they do for their patients.

2. Dedication and hard work
He said that he was only allowed to purchase the part of the practice that he built. He started out doing everything, optometrically speaking, because that was what was needed to pay the bills. He’s even done a little bit of low vision work, but didn’t enjoy it. What he really enjoyed was working with the kids with learning disabilities attributable to visual problems. One of the things that he said really stuck with me that day: ”I spend my free time writing customized reports, and that makes me different. I write one for the teachers, a different one for the insurance, or for the doctor that referred the patient to me. Sometimes I go home with two backpacks of files.”

That’s pretty much at least three times the work that I saw done in the old office I worked at, but it also meant for him that he’ll gain more referrals for the patient population that he is interested in focusing on. Outside of all that work, he also reads books and journal articles for enjoyment. He said that he didn’t learn all that he knew in one day, that he learned about one subject that he was interested in, and dove into text, internet, journals, etc., and attended all the conferences and seminars he could. He became an expert in one area before he moved onto something new. He also insisted we should devote time to ourselves and wake up early to make use of day time, so he wakes up extra early in the morning to read or kayak for fun.

I distinctly remember that it made me feel extremely lazy in comparison. I thought working four jobs, being a co-president of a student organization and managing school work made me busy, but Dr. Margolis inspired me to do donate more of my free time to learning, in order to better treat my future patients. I resolve to read something about vision therapy every weekend (still have yet to start, but I will!).

Dr. Margolis spoke to us without the aid of any PowerPoint slides (even though he prepared one in advance).

Students listened attentively and took notes, some even got their spouses to come along.

Dr. Margolis also spoke of the importance of keeping time. Since his special needs patients have very limited attention spans, he tries to make sure that he doesn’t keep them waiting. He told us a story of a patient who was referred to him for seeing double vision, and how the patient left seeing single again on the very same day with the use of Fresnel prisms (press-on prisms). It was interesting to see something we learn in first year optics class with Dr. Goodfellow used in a real clinic setting. I can imagine how satisfied both the patient and the referrer would be if an optometrist could provide relief of double vision within such a short amount of time. Fun fact: Hilary Clinton was treated with Fresnel prisms at one point.

Dr. Margolis rarely take more than three days off at a time. He says it’s really important to be present for his staff and his patients, and the stack of files that piles up on his desk in his absence makes it not worth it. 

3. Accountability and credibility
Some patients have asked Dr. Margolis if he could instruct their occupational therapist or someone else to perform the vision therapy the patients need, and his response surprised me: “Yes, I can, if the person you go to can be personally responsible to ensure that you succeed. I can be personally responsible for your success in treatment.”

He makes realistic promises he can keep, spends his time to go through each skill the patient can improve on, and informs their parents what can be changed, and what can’t. He said that people who don’t have his expertise would not likely promise the patient that they’d be personally accountable for the outcome of treatment, and that it’s important for us as doctors to hold ourselves personally accountable.

He also stressed the importance of being credible–that if a patient doesn’t need vision therapy, we should be honest about it. “You get more referrals by being credible. If the patient was referred to you for vision therapy, and they don’t need it, send them back out.” 

He said it would be tempting to just do vision therapy on everybody, especially when we’re in debt and have bills to pay. However, we lose more patients in the end because you’ll be less credible as a doctor.

4. Interesting clinical tidbits
Dr. Margolis gave us a lot of information on visual spatial processing, autism, binocular vision disorders, etc., but there were two clinical stories that stuck with me. He talked about a child with autism who squinted and constantly shut his eyes. He diagnosed the child with strabismus and double vision, so he gave the child glasses. Once the problem was addressed and treated, the child was able to see single and opened up his eyes. Dr. Margolis also spoke about neglect, when patients neglect the existence of half of the world, and perceive the world differently from the rest of us. These patients only eat from half the plate of food, shave half their faces, or draw a clock with 1-12 scrunched up on one side.

Google image of what kind of clock a patient with neglect on their left side might draw

5. Lots of interesting gadgets
I took as many photos as I could, so hopefully you all can get an idea of how awesome it was.

The decorations made it seem more welcoming than in most doctors offices I’ve been in, I mean check out his front door:

Just past the reception desk is a hallway to rooms that contain different testing equipment. You can see the colorful decorations and paintings on the walls no matter where you walk.

Fun activities in one of the waiting rooms

Dr. Margolis said that everything he does is very physical, since he needs to constantly catch the attention of the kids he works with. Toys were even on the ceiling in some of the rooms.

This is how you get a child to pay attention to a target far away:

They’re just ordinary stuffed toys: They can be remote controlled to move and light up.

Even the OKN drums have adorable Snoopy stickers on them. What a great idea!

As we visited some of the rooms he tests patients in, and he showed us some more of his gadgets.

A phoropter: No optometry office is complete without one!

Every room comes with an explanation of the purpose of the gadgets inside.

The pre-testing area

Visual field machine

Next, we move onto some vision therapy rooms.

The cabinet is full of toys, and the chairs and tables are tiny. Perfect for the children.

An adorable chair in one of the test rooms. I can see why kids would love to come here– exams and vision therapy can actually be fun!

I asked him what these were for, they looked really fun.

They can be used as balance beams!

Dr. Margolis said that he’s worked with some famous individuals. TV announcers, a child of one the Chicago Bulls players, the Bears, and probably some others that shouldn’t be mentioned.

I suppose this was from one of the people he has helped.

A closer look at what it says: “Optometric Vision Therapy made a big difference in my life and my career. I was fortunate that my vision problems were caught early in life. Learning-related vision problems can have a serious impact on a child’s education. Don’t wait, take action today.”–Larry Fitzgerald, Arizona Cardinals, 2008 NFC West Champions’ wide-receiver

6. Inspiration
I can’t help but imagine how rewarding it must feel to make such a difference in a child’s life. On our way out, after all that was said and done, he said that the purpose of this for him is the hope that we can catch his passion and make a difference in the kids– that we can give kids a greater proportionality between effort and outcome, which builds self-esteem. If that was his goal, I believe he accomplished it that day. I learned a lot from Dr. Margolis, and I can’t wait to work hard help my future patients in a similar way.

In the days leading up to Sunday, the Dose website was constantly updated with new and enticing info that fueled my anticipation. For one thing, a new French bakery was debuting at the market. Macarons are my favorite and I was sold.

My friend Lana joined me, and we ventured to Dose for lunch and exploration. Upon walking into the market, a tray of macarons floated over to us. Booths with clothing, purses and jewels were mixed in with vendors selling sliders, jams and three-course meals. Endless drinks were free, and though I don’t drink alcohol, the mixologist from Femme du Coupe mixed me a drink with their blueberry lavender Le Sirop, lemon juice and water, which made for a delicious refresher. We satisfied our sweet tooth with Bon Macaron and chose some amazing aromatic soaps from Real Soaps. We devoured shrimp spring rolls by Embeya and delighted in a slew of offerings from Peerless Bread & Jam, Chocolate for the Spirit, Frittle Candy, and then checked out an exhibit hosted by ACRE. Our day at the market was captured at a Spring Fever Photobooth that was hosted by my friend Emma Arnold of Trés Awesome Events and came complete with floral crowns, pins and bouquets.

To enter Dose Market, tickets cost $10 at the door or $8 purchased in advance online. If you decide to swing by the next Dose coming May 12, go with an open mind, ready for a different and new experience. The market opens at 10 a.m. and closes at 4 p.m., but go earlier in the day rather than later!

I own a car that I still make payments on, but I don’t even keep it with me in Chicago. That sounds stupid, right? Well, it is not that simple. It’s part of my “Let’s be creative with money while I’m in optometry school” plan. I’ve always had a vehicle in high school and undergrad. In college, I was that person who took four or five carless people for weekly grocery store runs. At the time, I remember thinking, “How do they live without a car?” In the four years between graduating from college and entering ICO, I was working and I acquired an awesome Honda Civic coupe (I call her Miss Galaxy, after her color, galaxy grey). In addition to getting a fantastic 33 miles per gallon, I now also had a car loan. On top of the loan payments that my student self couldn’t afford, there are additional expenses that go along with maintaining a car. My creative plan involved keeping the Civic with my Milwaukee-based fiancé, who drives a Ford F-150 (14 MPG). To save some money on gas while visiting me down in Chicago–we’re talking almost 200 miles of driving every other week–he drives Miss Galaxy. With the gas money he saves by driving my car for these visits, as well as routine driving in Milwaukee, he contributes extra money to my car payment–meaning he pretty much pays for the car that I can’t afford. And, I’m able to access my car for those few times each quarter when it’s necessary, and have it available when it’s time to go out to externship sites during fourth year rotations.

When my fiancé recently traveled to the East Coast for an extended work trip, he asked me if I wanted the car back full-time for a month. I’ve missed the freedom and flexibility a car can provide so I jumped on the opportunity. I ran a mini-experiment on how much more I would love or hate my life in Chicago when I’ve got a car versus my normal life without one.

Week 1: Four-wheel Joy
The first day I had the car, I woke up in the morning and realized that I could have a sit-down, 10-minute breakfast in place of the time that I usually spend waiting for the bus to get to school. So I did. It was great. I drove to school from my South Loop studio apartment and it took me four minutes. Four minutes! I think I passed at least two or three buses that I would have potentially taken. As the week went on I picked up some secret parking tricks, like learning that meter payment ends at 6 p.m. on the street next to my apartment building, whereas it doesn’t end until 9 p.m. on the street in front of the building. I went to school in the morning and got home around 6 p.m. to park for free overnight. Based on the first week’s experience, I started wondering why I didn’t keep my car in Chicago, when it saves me so much time to do everything.

Week 2: Paranoid Much?
When I’m paranoid, which is not very often, I am unbearable. I was paranoid the second week of having my car, because we finally got our first big snow storm. The City of Chicago is notorious for towing cars off the street when there’s more than a certain amount of accumulation. While towing most often happens in neighborhoods on the North Side (Lincoln Park, Lakeview, Bucktown, etc.), it can also occur on some side streets downtown and on the South Side. I remember sitting in clinic one day eavesdropping on a third year student’s conversation. She’d just had her car towed in the morning and had to pay $150 cash to get it out. The moral of the story was that even though this could happen to her two or three times a year ($450 annually), it was still cheaper than paying an extra $200 per month for an indoor parking spot in her apartment complex ($2,400 annually). Something really interesting to think about.

ICO’s parking garage is extremely secure: You have to swipe a valid ID to get in and get out.

After spending about two hours searching for a sense of security, I decided that there was no way I would take my chances on having the car towed overnight–$150 and time to retrieve the car at an impound were two things that I did not have to spare. I ended up consulting our awesome security staff and got access to park my car in the ICO garage during the night of the heaviest snowfall. Students who drive a car every day of the year are encouraged to purchase garage access. It ends up being about $2 a day when you pay for the whole year’s worth (which is the only option). If you have a guest visiting you at the Residential Complex, they can get permission from security to park their cars safely in the garage free-of-charge for the duration of their stay.

Week 3: Parking Ticket Scare
Even after the snow had melted, I wasn’t out of the woods as a Chicago driver. Leaving for school at 8 a.m. and staying until 6 p.m. to avoid paying for the meter on the street got really old really fast. By the third week, I started to drive home around 3 or 4 p.m. and utilized the parking meter services ($2 per hour). Paying $6 to come home a little earlier did not sit well with me, but it was nice to have the option. One day, after pulling another all-nighter for the 8 a.m. Ocular Disease exam, I decided enough was enough. I came home at noon and went straight to bed, as I always did following an all-nighter when I lived in the RC. The only problem was that I can only pay for three hours of parking at the meter. When I woke up from my “quick” nap, I was already 17 minutes into being parked illegally. I grabbed my wallet and ran out of my building to where the car was parked to find a parking attendant writing a ticket two cars behind mine. Parking tickets range from $60 to $100 depending on the violation. To think that I was two seconds away from saying good-bye to $60 was scary and something that I did not want to experience ever again.

Week 4: Good-bye Miss Galaxy… It’s Been Real
Having Miss Galaxy for a month was so much fun but also extremely stressful. As part of my experiment, I cancelled my CTA pass ($100 per month) and purposely stayed away from public transportation for the whole month to compare my costs after paying parking meters, tickets if there were any, and gas expenses. Driving the car back and forth from school is convenient and such a time-saver, but only if there’s reliable parking at both school and home. A typical rental spot goes for $150 to $200 per month, and the school parking garage will cost approximately $650 per year. My monthly expenses–without any parking tickets, fortunately–were around $120. So, without considering car payments and insurance and parking spot rentals, and just taking into account gas and meters, it’s still more expensive to drive than to rely on public transportation. When my fiancé returned from the East Coast to pick up the car and drive back to Milwaukee, I acted sad but I was really thinking “Thank god, finally.”

So there it is: my four-week experience with a car in the middle of Chicago winter!

PROS: saves time; convenience for school commuting and grocery shopping; easier to attend off-campus events (volunteering, vision screenings, local conferences); the occasional trip to the suburbs to check out a new coffee shop or study place is possible

CONS: cost of living increases; headaches (broken windows, stolen car parts); finding parking; possibility of parking or traffic tickets; paying for expensive Chicago gas; dealing with Chicago traffic

During clinical education lab (or what everyone calls “optometry”) this quarter, one skill was taught each week and built upon with a different skill the next week. We started off with keratometry, which was not difficult in practice, and struggled with “with” and “against” streaks in retinoscopy. We then learned how to dial in power and start making clincal decisions in manifest refraction and then stabilize vision in binocular and duochrome balancing. Manifest refraction includes four main steps to determine and refine a patient’s prescription for refractive error. Before the year ends, we’ll work on clinical efficiency and on perfecting our skills. In no time at all we’ll be taking our retinoscopy and refraction practicals (in about a week!) to assess our technique and inch even closer to our optometry educational goals. My refracting skills need more work, but soon I hope they’ll be perfected.