Thursday, February 11, 2016

Yo Ho, Yo Ho, No Pirate Patch for Me

Holy Health Scare Batman!  So here's the whole shebang in a nutshell.  I was seeing a flash.  Actually it was more like a glowing blob that would appear in my vision for about half a second and then be gone.  It had been happening for months but it seemed to be getting more frequent so I went to the eye doctor.  He said everything looked fine but had me come back in two weeks for a recheck.  I went back and to be on the safe side he referred me to a retina specialist.  "You'll be the youngest one there by 30 years." he said.  "they'll check you out and laugh and say I was crazy for referring you," he said.  "Well this will be a grand waste of time," I thought.  But I went.  I WAS the youngest person there and the triage portion was long and boring.  I had the pleasure of being snapped at by a nurse with RBF big time.  (That's Resting Bitch Face for those of you who don't know.)  Come to find out throughout the visit that it wasn't just RBF.  She was just a bitch.  Anyway, I finally got in to see the doctor.  He looked in my eye and blinded me with a bunch of shiny things.  I was fully prepared for the "I don't know why he sent you here.  You are fine."  I waited to hear those words when he reclined me and began poking and prodding at my eye.  I waited to hear those words when he said, "Give me a moment to make some notes and then we'll chat."  I waited to hear those words as he made scribbles and marks on the eye diagram on his computer.  I was still waiting to hear those words as he began to "chat" with me about my RETINAL DETACHMENT!!!   What?!?!?!  Did I just say retinal detachment?  Yes I did!  He started with that and then went on but all I heard was "wah, wah, wah wah wah wah."  All of a sudden he was Charlie Brown's teacher.  He said something about gel in the back of my eye and something about being prone to tears and something about a tear and a hole and surgery.  My mouth was hanging open.  My husband's mouth was hanging open.  When he realized I was in shock, he slowed down and explained my treatment options.  There were three.  Number one:  Do nothing which he said wasn't really an option.  Number two:  Have laser surgery to forma scar around the tear/hole to prevent it from expanding.  This option does not stop the flashes but may prevent them from getting larger and more intrusive in my vision.  Number three:  Have traditional cutting surgery.  It involves anesthesia and a band around your eye and then "wah, wah, wah wah wah wah."  Risks include bleeding, infection, and a bunch of other things.  "Ok," I'm thinking, "I really need to do some research and thinking about which I want to do."  No such luck!  The doctor slams me into a state of shock again with the news that the laser surgery would be done today and the traditional surgery would be done the day after tomorrow.  Well there goes the research and the thinking.  He ushers us into another room to decide and I want to burst into tears.  My hubs who thought he would be back to work in an hour quickly cleared his meeting schedule.  While he was doing that, I was left to decide my fate.  The laser would be quick but not painless.  The surgery was more invasive but may fix the flashes and they would knock me out for it.  I had no idea what to do.  My only bright spot (pun intended) was maybe I'd get a pirate-style eye patch to wear home.  That intrigue was short lived as I imagined the laser zapping my vision away if I accidently looked in the wrong spot.  I thought of the recovery period after the traditional surgery and wondered if they put stitches in your eye.  There was no one to answer any of my questions.  Everybody acted as though there was no decision to make.  I ended up opting for the laser surgery which was scary as hell.  It felt like I was getting a tattoo on my eyeball.  Like someone was snapping the inside of my eye with a rubber band repeatedly.  They finished the first portion and put me in the waiting room with juice and crackers to recover a bit.  After about an hour, it was time for round two.  My eyes were tired and uncooperative but the cod managed to do what he needed to do.  Once I could see again, we made our way home.  My eyeball was sore from all the drops and poking and prodding and zapping.  It felt swollen and it ached.  I now know what to look for as signs of retinal detachment but am totally paranoid about every little light or shadow I see.  Eventually I'll get back to normal but knowing I am more vulnerable to going blind in the future - well, I kind of sucks.  The most disappointing part was I didn't even get an eye patch.  Ahoy, no pirate look for me matey.  Arrrrr!!!

***If you see flashes, floaters, shadows, or black spots, please see your eye doctor right away***

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Shameless Self Promotion

After a disrupted adoption, we are in the process of attempting to adopt again.  If you would like to follow our trials and tribulations as we make our way through this process a second time, please see my other blog "The Butterfly Keepers" at  Thank you and I hope to see you there!

Friday, February 5, 2016

Involuntary Nastics at the Gym

Well it finally happened.  I dreaded it.  I tried to avoid it.  I even had nightmares about it.  I actually fell off the treadmill at my gym.  It happened simply enough.  My phone was in the holder on the machine.  I hit a button and went to move my hand back and caught the wire of the ear buds.  My phone tumbled to the running belt.  Of course, my instincts kick in and I try to grab it but since I am incapable of doing two things at once, my feet stopped walking.  Within a half a second, I realized I needed to keep walking but it was too late.  By that point I was flailing with one arm and holding onto the side of the machine with the other.  I let go of the side, stopped flailing, and just let myself be ejected off the back of the machine.  I must have kicked my phone at some point because it was still on the treadmill and was ejected after me.  The entire time I was thinking "I can't believe this is happening."  Luckily, or was it by divine intervention, I was able to stick the landing.  I managed not to fall on my ass.  My niece would have been proud of my "nastics" moves but I highly doubted anyone else in the gym would be appreciative of them.  I looked around and saw everyone in the gym, ears plugged with ear buds, continuing on with their workouts.  Even the folks at the desk didn't seem to notice.  I was grateful for this but also a bit unnerved.  I just wiped out on the treadmill in grand fashion and nobody noticed.  What if I had been really hurt?  Would someone have come to my aid?  I was in the back so I guess that helped my anonymity.  Still.  I could have used a "poor baby."  And as for not hurting myself, that train quickly left the station.  I finished my workout but my arm was hurting a bit.  As the evening went on, I became more sore in the realm of my right arm.  Today, it hurts to type this and I can't lift my right arm without the fear of vomiting in pain.  It'll be a trip to the urgent care tonight for me.  Is it sad that I know the x-ray guy at the urgent care by name?  And it's January so that means deductible time.  So I'll be paying full price for my exam and x-rays.  It'll cost more than the year long membership at my gym.  So if I had never gone to the gym, I'd have my membership money, my x-ray money, and not be in constant pain?  Sounds like the gym is the problem here.  Or is it just my lack of coordination.  Either way if I hadn't gone to the gym, like ever, I'd be a lot richer and a lot healthier.  That doesn't quite seem right.  But what's done is done and what's injured is injured.  At least I don't have to come up with a disguise to go back to the gym.  But I will be forever haunted by the idea that somewhere out there in interwebland there may be surveillance camera evidence of my treadmill dance with death.

Friday, January 22, 2016

My Office is for Pooping -or- Psychiatrist Wanted: Must Love Babies

Today sucks.  Yup.  I said it.  Today sucks.  It completely blows.  I am just sitting here wallowing in self pity and I don't care who knows.  I don't give a rat's ass.  Why does today of all days suck.  Because.  My Gram died two weeks ago and I still haven't really accepted that, yesterday I found out that my psychiatrist of ten years will no longer be accepting my insurance in a month, a person who is supposed to remain impartial has proved to be totally and completely biased in my book, and my dogs pooped in the office.  That last one is nothing new.  They poop in the office on a daily basis.  They think its their own person toilet.  I included that one because having poop in your house that you have to clean up just kind of sums up my day.  Oh, and we are apparently aren't going to see hide nor hair of a snowflake in the exciting Snowmaggedon of 2016.  I wanted to stay tucked into my house as the snow fell down all around me sipping coffee and being productive.  Instead I sit here with my eyes closed willing the world away.  (Yes, I know I have depression.)  I called the Hubs to tell him how upset I was about some of the days events and . . . nothing.  No "awwww."  No "poor baby."  Nothing.  That only added to my depression du jour.  I want snow damn it!  I have the weather channel on and they are talking all about snow in terms of feet, power outages, driving restrictions, and here - nothing but melting.  It sucks.  The only good thing about today is that I get to meet one of my bestie's offspring tomorrow.  Hopefully this gloom and funk will be over by then but if not, I will hold that baby and sniff her head (Babies smell awesome.  The head end that is.  Not the other end) and experience a moment of pure peace.  Because even if just for that moment, that little baby needs me.  That may be it.  I may just want to feel needed.  The Kid (who is about to graduate from university) informed me that that's why they give people in nursing homes with diminished cognitive capacity baby dolls to care for.  It gives them purpose.  A reason for being.  A connection to the universe.  Maybe I need to dig out my old 80's Cabbage Patch Dolls and carry them around.  I wonder if that would make me feel any better.  I also wonder if I will end up back in the "special unit" on the fifth floor.  Walking around with a doll all day.  But if I go to the "special unit" I will get a referral to a new psych doc and an appointment without the normal waiting time.  There, two birds with one stone.  Now all I've got to do is keep the momentum going.