Balancing Duties

There are weeks in this profession where the schedule feels like a tidal wave crashing all at once. New patients are coming in, established patients need their progress monitored, and suddenly it feels like every chart, every activity, and every piece of equipment is demanding your attention. The Vision Therapy session - the part I love most - can get buried under the weight of logistics. Personally, my focus is always on helping patients grow and succeed, but when the admin duties stack up, I sometimes feel stretched so thin that I’m not giving my best self to any one person. Every patient requires planning, preparation, and careful attention, and that can be difficult to balance alongside the constant push of peripheral duties.

What complicates things even more is quantifying the behind-the-scenes work nobody really sees. Vision Therapy doesn’t just magically happen in the moment. It requires equipment, tools, targets, lenses, and all the little pieces that somehow disappear right when you need them. One missing prism or an out-of-stock balance board can throw off the rhythm of an entire afternoon.

Inventory management can feel like an entire job of its own. Keeping track of which items are low, which need ordering, and which are just misplaced somewhere in the therapy room eats away at mental space that I wish I could devote to my patients. I’ll be honest, some days I feel less like a Vision Therapist and more like a supply chain manager. Taking nothing away from people who manage supply chains, they, too, play an important role in the world. Proof positive of this fact is that when I’m forced into their shoes, everything feels a little shakier. They make it look effortless, while I’m over here sweating bullets about whether I have enough flippers or if the Marsden ball has mysteriously vanished again. The emotional toll in all of this is not far behind. In particular, when I realize a piece of equipment I was counting on isn’t ready or available, probably because I forgot to order it. That stress creeps in before sessions even begin, making it harder to be fully present with the child or adult sitting in front of me.

The irony in all of this is that the patients rarely notice, or even become aware of these behind the scene struggles. They see a smiling face, a structured activity, and hopefully a sense of progress. Inside, though, I may be thinking about how I’ll track down a missing red/green bar reader or whether I remembered to submit the last supply order before the end of the day. iPhone reminders are a great thing!

When the patient load is heavy, the mental juggling act intensifies. You’re moving from patient to patient, switching gears constantly, all while trying to remember if you updated notes, logged outcomes, or even ate lunch. It’s a balancing act that can easily lead to burnout if not acknowledged and managed. 

Over time, I’ve learned that these stressors don’t mean I’m failing—they mean I’m human. This work requires immense organization, patience, and emotional energy, and no one can do it flawlessly all the time. Naming the challenges out loud has actually helped me give myself grace in the moments when I feel like I’m barely holding it together, which, depending on the day, can be an hourly experience.

At the end of the day, what keeps me steady is the knowledge that the effort is worth it. The frustration of chasing down equipment and the exhaustion of managing inventory pale in comparison to watching a child light up when they read a line of text more clearly than before, or report their grades have improved significantly, or they finally hit that homerun they have only dreamt about before now. 

Remember, friends, the stress and chaos are real, but so is the transformation. Changing lives is a “get to” job, not a “have to” job…

And that’s why I keep showing up.