Stepping Back to Move Forward

As a vision promoter at Illinois Eye Institute at Princeton Elementary, I get the opportunity to interact with, educate, and help a wide variety of patients. Our clinic provides vision care for children in the Chicago Public School system between the ages of 3 and 21. Many of the kids we see are from medically underserved areas and for some, they are having their first eye exam.

One of my daily responsibilities at the clinic is conducting what we call entrance tests, which collect basic information about how well a patient sees up close and at a distance, if they can see in 3D and color, and what their eye pressure is. While those who've had these tests before know them to be harmless, to someone who has never had an eye exam, or who does not speak English very well, the unknown associated with these vision tests can be intimidating and scary. Almost every day, I find myself in the position of needing to slow down, find out where the patient's comfort zone is, and work with them in that comfort zone while still getting the data we need. These situations require me to think on my feet and get creative to make sure we are serving every patient as fully as possible.

There is one patient in particular that I'll always remember, not only because he was afraid, but also because he was the first one to challenge me to slow down and get on his level. He was three years old, spoke only Spanish, and judging by the way he entered the room attempting to hide behind his mom's leg, very shy. I began by greeting him with a simple'Hola! Como te llamas?" and received a resolute silence in response. Changing gears, I grabbed a color vision book, sat down on the floor, and asked if he wanted to play a game. Caught off guard (because at what doctor's office do you play games?), he peered out from behind his mom to look at me. Suddenly, I was no longer giving tests TO him but rather playing them WITH him. Slowly, we progressed through the stations, and by the end of the session, he was smiling. Although we didn't quite make it through all the tests, I considered it a victory because of what happened when we got to the exam room. After I explained what would happen when he saw the doctor, he walked over, climbed into the big exam chair, and declared,'Estoy listo." (I'm ready).

This encounter serves as a reminder to me that sometimes switching things up even just a bit can make all the difference in how comfortable a patient feels and thus how open they are to new information and experiences. As I continue my service with Chicago Health Corps, I hope to continue making vision care more approachable and learning from every one of the patients I serve.

This post was written by CHC member Kelly Blair

Kelly serves as a Vision Promoter at the Illinois Eye Institute at CPS Princeton School