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Welcome to SmartRead
Welcome to SmartRead, where you'll uncover a wide range of captivating articles, heartening stories, and valuable insights from experts in the field. Tailored specifically for those with a passion for vision health, SmartRead features interviews with resilient individuals who have overcome visual challenges, along with the latest developments in eye care. Whether you're seeking inspiration or valuable information, SmartRead is your trusted source for engaging and accessible content.
On the bright side.
In conversation with Gilly Thomas, who doesn’t let her diagnosis leave her feeling blue.
After an unexpected central retinal vein occlusion in 2017, Gilly Thomas has continued to find the silver linings in her everyday. Her background in nursing presented a golden opportunity: getting fresh insight into her own journey of vision impairment. Gilly’s lived a life filled with vivid experiences, and she’s just getting started.
I worked for a pharmaceutical company for many years, but recently I’ve gone back to nursing. I first did my training years ago – when I returned to practice, I felt like I’d newly qualified. A lot has changed in 20 years. The basic principles of caring stay the same, certainly, but the paperwork and things that go along with it have completely transformed. Even since I’ve been back new systems have been introduced, but then I’ve been able to get used to that more quickly.
At the time I needed new reading glasses anyway, so I headed to my opticians for an eye test. It was there I found out I had central retinal vein occlusion, a common cause of a sudden reduction in vision. From that point, it was a few weeks before I was able to get an appointment at the hospital. I was so frightened during that time, it was horrible. I would take the dog out and I couldn’t see properly, even with my glasses on.
With no risk factors, the occlusion felt out the blue
At first, I did wonder, “why me?” My vision in my left eye has never been perfect, so – of course – it was my ‘good’ right eye that was affected by the occlusion. I was able to see the irony in that, I’m a very glass-half-full type of person. In fact, my dad used to say, “there’s always someone worse off than you, girl.” And he’s right, isn’t he? Through my line of work, I do meet people facing incredibly difficult challenges. So I always try to be grateful for what I’ve got. I’m beyond thankful to have had treatment with our wonderful NHS, and I can still do things I enjoy. I have made a few adjustments here and there, but my diagnosis hasn’t stopped me doing what I love. I seek out brighter lights for reading, and I’ll plan ahead a bit more if I’m going away on holiday somewhere or off for a swim at my local pool.
I’ve been green fingered all my life
My dad was a coal miner. When I was young, I used to help out in his allotment and we grew vegetables together. I loved it then and I love it now. It’s a safe space for me. I’ve even landscaped my own garden. The opportunity came about when my vision was initially affected, so I really gave a lot of thought to what I was planting. Colour was and is an important part of the process.I choose vibrant flowers on purpose, all bright yellows and pinks. It’s not just in my own space, I appreciate the colours of nature wherever I go – when I’m walking the dog I look for the green of the trees and rusty leaves in autumn. I also do some caring in my community for people living with dementia, and when I have time to myself, I see my four grown-up children, plus their partners and pets, as often as I can. We’re all very close and they keep me busy!
My diagnosis journey was anything but clear
Back in 2017 I had a chest infection I just couldn’t shake. Then, one morning, I woke up and my knee was all red and swollen. I went to my doctor and he told me the infection was systemic, meaning it was affecting my entire body. We had to try a few courses of different medicines before it settled down. I thought I was out of the woods, but a few days later my vision became blurred.
It hasn’t always been easy, but now I feel I’ve hit a purple patch
A few years ago, my initial treatment started to wear off and my symptoms came back. I couldn’t drive myself anywhere again. I’m quite independent – I’d rather hop on a bus than ask for assistance– but one of my neighbours stopped me and said “oh, come on, I’ll take you.” I surprised us both by bursting into tears. I was so touched, and I realised, sometimes you do need that little bit of help.
I try to do the same for others, particularly when I go into the clinic for my own treatment. You see so many people in there, it creates a sense of comradery when you’re waiting to be seen, but every now and then you might notice someone looking abit wary. That’s when I’ll pipe up and say, “I’m on my umpteenth session now, don’t worry about it.” I like to offer a bit of reassurance. I suppose my background as a medical professional is part of that.
Looking ahead, I’m full of hope. I have a lovely support group around me, and my children are never far away. I have a lot of confidence in the fantastic specialists working in eye health – they know what they’re doing. And for that I feel very lucky.
Finding her rhythm.
Dr Liz Wilkinson shares how she welcomes change in both her personal and professional life
For Dr Liz Wilkinson, variety really is the spice of life. Across a career with shifting roles and on a daily (and nightly) basis, embracing change has become second nature. She believes new and exciting experiences make life more interesting. Now, in a world so different from our ancestors, she’s waking up to following her own schedule and welcoming updates for the future.
A typical day? Oh, I don’t have one of those. Aren’t I lucky?
I’ve never really had a usual routine, and that’s just the way I like it. I love change, it’s the reason behind everything I do – that’s how I’ve ended up leading the charge for eye care transformation in my area. My life has always been varied. I first trained as a physician, then a cardiologist, and then as a surgical ophthalmologist. I used to spend most of my day looking at the back of people’s eyes, but today my approach is a little more holistic. I’m now a medical ophthalmologist consultant, and I’m the ophthalmology and Eyecare Clinical Director in Devon and the Southwest region.
For me, it’s all about the patient experience
I like making life easier for people. In Exeter, we have a new Centre of Excellence for Eyes, and some patients just can’t believe it’s part of the NHS. Part of that is because they didn’t have to wait – we’re talking 25 minutes for an appointment rather than 3 hours.
Being able to give people a bit of their day back is very rewarding. In the future, we’ll bring care even closer to people’s homes. One day there’ll be booths dotted around in supermarkets, You’ll be able to go in and get a scan of the back of your eye, a bit like having a passport photo taken. I find it’s those who have been living with a diagnosis for the longest are the most excited by updates like that. Maybe that’s because they’re most used to what was available before.
A collaborative community can do amazing things.
We have a new diagnostic hub in South Molton, and it’s been a real team effort to get to whether we are today. Wonderful local people from the hospital’s League of Friends came together, generously donating and funding so that we could open the clinical unit.
Bringing together expertise has been absolutely vital: sharing best practice has helped to map clinics and improve treatment pathways. And now, when people come in to see us, we can run lots of different services. We get to be there at different points of a treatment journey.
At every stage, it’s great to be able to give information that’s relevant. I always say: strive for your communication to be clear, concise and consistent. That’s something I really like about SmartBrowse, too. It’s there before and after an appointment, It’s ready-made community that we, as doctors, want to be a part of, too.
Training as a junior doctor prepared me for more than healthcare
Back when I started my career, hours could be very long. I had my pager next to me all the time. Sometimes you’d get up to start a shift at 7:30am on Friday morning and then you wouldn’t go home from work until Monday evening. It was not unheard of to do 120 hours on a stretch. Nowadays things are different, and rightly so – there are directives in place to make sure you don’t have to work like that.
At that time of my life I could sleep anywhere because I was so worn out. Then when I had children, sleep was a different matter altogether. Because of my line of work I was already used to not sleeping by that stage, so that was all right. And once the kids get older, you start sleeping brilliantly! Then menopause hits and you start sleeping not so well.
Throughout history, our internal clocks have been running to same schedule
Scientists know now that sleep helps the body recuperate. And as we get older, our repair mechanisms don’t work quite as well. Getting more shut-eye might help, but we all know that sleep eludes if you try too much. It’s not our fault. Anyway, no matter how much you sleep, your body will busy itself with its own repairs. It’s ok if that’s not a lot.
It’s difficult to live to our circadian rhythms, our body clocks. Our brains are running their own programme most of the time. I think we’re still the same people as when we were in a cave. And yet our world is so different. Inherently we haven’t changed, but we try to shoehorn ourselves into this world we’ve built.
In a perfect scenario, we would get up in the morning and go see sunlight immediately, then exercise – preferably outdoors, in the greenery – and then not eat too much and avoid screens before bed. But life just doesn’t work like that. I do find that if I can do some of those, I sleep better, so I might read a book before bed rather than looking at my gadgets. But not always. It’s about getting your rhythm of the day going in a way that works for you and recognising that’s different for everyone.
I feel positive about the future of patient care
Eye care has progressed so much. When I started in the field, we didn’t have the options we have today. I know it’ll be my successors who go forth and get those scanners in the supermarkets, but I will continue doing my best to get that ball rolling. We have to embrace these technological advances. We shouldn’t be scared of them. They’re going to be brilliant.
Life's Lessons: sharing helps us learn.
A conversation with Clare Sharman highlighting the potential of a five-minute conversation
After a diagnosis of diabetes almost 30 years ago,
I’ve felt that I needed to work twice as hard, but I’ve always just wanted to get on and do it
I love learning new things and that’s taken me in different directions – I was a teacher for 12 years, and I graduated from a law degree two years ago.
Around 15 years ago, when I was pregnant with my son, doctors noticed my eye condition and diagnosed me with diabetic macular oedema and glaucoma. I was told that without surgery, I only had about 18 months of eyesight left. At first, I felt I’d be losing a part of me. It’s difficult to put into words, but it was like I was grieving. I ended up having a vitrectomy in both eyes and I’ve since had numerous eye surgeries. I still have some sight and, like we all do, I have good days and bad days. But you can’t let a bad day feel like you’ve got a bad life. You just have to get up and get on.
When people are down, don’t kick – help them up I was brought up by my grandparents, and whenever I’m having a down day I think, “what would my granddad say?” He was so kind and caring. My grandma’s the same. Together they fostered many children. My grandma’s 81 now and still helping people. She works with the homeless and brings pots of stew round to soup kitchens. I think that’s where I get my mentality from. I just want to help. My partner and I do things for people in our community, lending a hand with their shopping, taking them to appointments, things like that. Even if I can only help with advice, I’ll do it. That’s just the person I am. You can’t underestimate the power of conversation. I know it can be hard to speak to those closest to us. My family has been really supportive, but I felt I would be a burden and found it hard to open up. So I like talking with other people in the clinic who are going through similar. I can spend hours there, going around and offering advice. I feel like I’m giving back because others have helped me. I was at the clinic recently and got talking to a woman who was waiting to have a cataract removed. She was fed up but so frightened. I told her to think about the next day, after the surgery, and how she’d be surprised by the difference it’ll make. I saw her about a month later and she thanked me – she confided that she’d have backed out of the surgery if it wasn’t for our chat. That’s only spurred me on to keep talking.
Since my diagnosis, I’ve experienced newfound love
I never thought much about fashion when I was younger, but when I was diagnosed, I suddenly had this sense of urgency. I started paying attention to things that I might not have otherwise, and I learnt to sew. I find I have an extra appreciation for textures and patterns. I love designing my own clothes and I’m now considering doing a master’s degree in fashion. I started doing hair and make-up for the same reasons and that’s been great. I even get involved in catwalks and fashion weeks and things like that!
I’ve learnt to take each day as it comes and appreciate the small things.
These days I can recognise triggers that affect my vision, like not getting enough sleep or being dehydrated. I’ve realised that knowing a bit about your condition and what you can do for yourself can be empowering. Through it all, music has really helped me. If I’m feeling down, I’ll stick some tunes on as it helps me focus and realise what I have that’s good: my children are well, my partner is well. My sister has just had twin boys, and it’s been amazing to touch and smell them.
