There was a time I thought “practice growth” meant a new OCT and a clever social media campaign. Then came the pandemic, a new associate, and an unusually high number of 8-year-olds squinting at my 20/30 line like it owed them lunch money. That’s when I stopped asking, “How can I grow the practice?” and started asking, “Who is this practice really for?”
The answer, it turned out, was right in front of me, usually swinging their legs from the exam chair or (eek!) hopping up and down on the footrest, excitedly asking when they could visit the treasure chest that’s prominently displayed in the middle of our clinic.
It’s a strange thing, this business of taking care of young eyes. It requires you to slow down in ways most efficiency consultants would frown upon. But it also does something else: It builds something durable. Sticky. Trusting.
And trust, I’ve found, is the secret sauce of sustainable growth.
Myopia management didn’t just change how I prescribe; it changed how I relate to parents, kids, and my staff. It invited us to become not just purveyors of eyewear, but also long-term partners in a child’s visual journey. And in doing so, it gave our general practice something deeper than volume: It gave us vision, a clearly defined niche with purpose.
The growth came quietly at first. One ortho-k fit here, a soft multifocal contact lens protocol there. But those families came back, and they brought their friends from the soccer team, dance class, and faith community. They told their pediatricians. Suddenly, the new patient schedule wasn’t filled by digital ads. It was filled by reputation, word-of-mouth, and physician referrals.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I really like numbers. I track a lot of metrics (my administrator still giggles at my fondness for pie charts). Families receiving myopia management remain patients longer, return more often, and choose premium services with confidence. They see your office as a place that gets them and their kids, rather than just a place to get glasses.
But the real growth isn’t just on the ledger. It’s in the culture. My techs ask smarter questions. My front desk knows every myopia control kid, their siblings, their pets, their birthdays. That one exam lane we used to reserve for urgent care visits is now booked out for follow-ups, parent consults, and myopia reviews, with a waiting list.
Is it more work? Yes. Is it more rewarding? Also yes.
I used to think growing a practice meant expanding outward into new space, new marketing, and new equipment. Sometimes it does, but more often, real growth starts by going inward: asking better questions, offering better care, and doing it with intention.
So if you’re still waiting for the right time to launch or expand your myopia program, maybe don’t look at the numbers just yet. Look at your mission. Look at that second-grader with the –4 Rx and the endless factoids about Jupiter. Because when you start there, when you commit to one thing and do it well, you don’t just build a successful myopia program. You build a thriving practice around it. OM
