Hello, Lovelies Out In The Universe Whom I’ve Been Avoiding But Whom I Miss and Love. That includes you, Friends I Haven’t Called Back. And also you, Adored Ones Whose E-mails I Have Not Returned. Hugs to ya, Everyone I’ve Let Down.
Apologizing feels a little weak at this point since I’ve done it so many times, but what I’m really just sorry about is that I’m doing the best that I can and sometimes that best falls short of demonstrating how much I care about and am grateful for All Of You. So, I’m not so much sorry for my absence as I am just regretful of the unfortunate circumstances that have limited my capacity for consistency with regard to human interaction. (I should really write greeting cards.) There’s a dearth of consistency on the whole in these parts. Or, to put it less writery and rationalizey----there are good days and bad.
I’m sitting here going back and forth between explaining what’s been up/ keeping me away or not doing that because it will feel boring to you and blah, blah, blah to me.
But of course part of my intention in keeping this blog going through my parents’ illnesses and deaths was to share the experience honestly, so trying to edit myself now that they're gone in order to sound less whiny (or sad) sort of defeats the purpose...and also causes two-month posting gaps.
Since today’s small goal was to simply show up, I’ll keep the explanation of where I've been brief. Really it’s just the stuff of dead parents, depression and anxiety, oh my. Just that. Really, boiled down, it’s just that.
Sometimes I need to isolate. Sometimes I feel too fragile for the vulnerability required to share my work. Sometimes it’s just too painful to write.
Emotionally painful, yes, but as of late it’s been physically painful as well.
About a month ago I made an appointment with the eye doc figuring I just needed stronger glasses because I was increasing the font on my computer to size 87-year-old, and the doc discovered I had a hole in my retina and sent me to see a retinal specialist. (There is such a thing.) Though it had taken me over a month to get an appointment with the eye doc, I got an appointment with the retinal specialist just a week later, something I now recognize to be indicative of an urgency I didn’t pick up on at the time. This was when I learned that not only was there a hole, but my retina was actually partially detached and I needed to have laser treatment...that very day. The idea is to scar the area around the tear so that it can’t rip further. This is done by BURNING MY EYEBALL WITH A FUCKING LASER! It was some crazy shit, guys. I had my face in a machine and there was a flashing green light searing my eyeball and I might have even time traveled for a minute. When the nurse led me out to Dan in the waiting room afterwards---eye patch and all---I declared (with a smidge of whimper), “I was brave!”
Dan couldn’t be in the room for the procedure because the doctor said something about the indirect laser exposure being a risk to him (although apparently perfectly safe when aimed directly into my retina and right through to my soul). But he was able to be with me before the procedure and watched as I GOT AN INJECTION IN MY EYEBALL! He said the anesthetic created a bubble of fluid on the surface of my eye, though in all my Googling I’ve not been able to find a picture of it so I can only offer Dan’s artistic rendering.
The whole procedure made my eyes pretty sensitive in general this last month---reading and light were especially tough----but it worked. My retina is not likely to rip further though I’ll have to have my other eye examined somewhat regularly since I’m predisposed to this kind of thing now. The seriousness of the situation was again made clear when I saw how relieved the retinal specialist was at my follow-up appointment to see that it had gone as planned. He said I was really lucky it was caught when it was---totally a fluke thing since I didn’t have the typical symptoms. If it had detached entirely, I could have had permanent vision loss.
It’s pretty messed up and there’s no explanation for it. Not aging, not advanced diabetes, not a blow to the face. Everyone kept asking me if there had been trauma or injury and I think it was code for, “Is everything okay at home?” which amused me to no end since of course Dan is Dan and, let’s be honest, the least likely of the two of us to be the abusive spouse.
He is, however, the most likely to say that were I to lose my vision he would rearrange the furniture and watch me stumble around the apartment. This was his first thought upon hearing that I could have gone blind.
My first thought: I’ll have to learn how to write dirty words in Braille.
So you see, I have been thinking of you guys...
