Intro

In the spring of 2021, a random scroll through Facebook introduced me to a term I had never encountered before: vertical heterophoria. Curious as ever, I looked it up, and what I found was a startlingly accurate summary of not just my symptoms, but the state of my life at that time.

And my life was not going well.

I was an articling student at an insurance defence firm in Toronto, working remotely from Windsor. Mere months before, I passed the Bar Exams, and asked my principal for more work because I didn’t feel like I was getting enough. But at that time, my health was in a worrying state of decline and my energy was depleted. I was plagued by migraines—sometimes up to three a week, each lasting more than a day. I was constantly dizzy, my neck and shoulders were perpetually stiff and sore, and even the slightest exertion left me utterly drained. My balance and coordination were deteriorating by the week, and I was convinced I had POTS. My mental health was hanging by a thread. I was preparing myself for a future where walking independently might not be possible. It felt like I was watching all my hard work go up in flames, with no hope of recovery.

But that wasn’t how my story ended. The treatment turned out to be something as simple as corrective lenses with a small vertical prism. My decline didn’t just stop—it completely reversed. Symptoms I didn’t even realize were abnormal started disappearing one by one. The profound fatigue, the sense of dread, the constant pain, the constant nausea, all would have been a distant memory but for the fact that I can relive it in seconds by taking off my glasses.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t lucky enough to discover vertical heterophoria before my articles ended, leaving me without the chance to prove myself when it mattered most. This has made finding employment incredibly challenging, and I haven’t worked since my articles. Articling is notoriously the worst time for a new lawyer to fall ill, and that held true for me.

Still, I can’t overstate how fortunate I am to have found the missing piece that turned my life around. It never crossed my mind that an overlooked eye condition—despite my 20/20 vision and otherwise healthy eyes—was the cause of my sudden decline. Tragically, too many people, like my maternal grandmother, go their entire lives undiagnosed, left to accept—or refuse to accept—their fate when doctors fail to find answers. They’re often told it’s a simple case of mind over matter. They’re too healthy to be sick.

It’s no wonder this happens to so many undeserving people. No blood test, no cutting-edge medical imaging, not even a standard eye exam can detect vertical heterophoria. If you don’t know to look for it, you won’t find it.

Since my diagnosis, I’ve spent some of my spare time raising awareness about vertical heterophoria, whether through casual social media interactions or privately messaging people who I suspect might have it. It’s heartening that people are finding out about it and seeking treatment, but it’s troubling that they’re learning about it from a concerned stranger rather than their doctor. In my experience, vertical heterophoria isn’t rare—knowledge about it is.

I created The Vertical Heterophore with a simple mission: enough is enough. Disruptive change needs to happen now. I believe the tide will turn in my lifetime, but I’m not waiting around for it.

For more information about vertical heterophoria, including a screening questionnaire and a guide for an at-home self-test, visit this page. If you score above 30, I strongly urge you to take it seriously. If today’s post has led you to suspect that you might have vertical heterophoria, my next post will cover steps you can take while waiting for your first pair of prism lenses.