One day, while flying over the Corinth Canal, I looked down at the remarkable incision carved through the landscape. Construction had first begun under the Roman Emperor Nero nearly 2,000 years ago, but the canal was not completed until 1893, through the efforts of a leading French engineer. From above, it appeared strikingly straight and smooth — a narrow, precisely engineered passage cut through solid earth.
As I turned my gaze back towards the cockpit, I noticed a thin layer of cloud stretching across the sky ahead of me, almost like a gateway. The aircraft's spinning propeller appeared to be entering this opening, and I was suddenly reminded of the trabecular meshwork of the human eye.
In that moment, two seemingly unrelated worlds — aviation and ophthalmology — came together in my imagination. The canal carved through the earth, the gateway formed by the clouds, and the delicate structures of the eye all seemed to share a common theme: the inspiration behind TM-Glide — creating a pathway through a delicate barrier.
It was a remarkable moment when nature, engineering, and human anatomy appeared unexpectedly connected, reminding me that inspiration for medical innovation can emerge from the most unexpected places.
