Depression and meeting expectations

I went back to work on Monday, and I made it through my first three days back.  As Murphy's Law would have it, I developed a mild sore throat and the sniffles just in time for my return, so on top of the anxiety about my "weird eye" and how my limited vision would affect my ability to work, I was feeling the usual lethargy and grumpiness that most people I know experience when they have a cold.  It was a bad emotional combination, and I did not have much energy or will to hide it.

Many people asked me how I was doing, and probably most of them were even genuinely interested.  Still, I couldn't help but cringe every time I was asked.  I know what they want to hear.  They want to hear that I'm better and happy to be back, but the truth is I am only a little bit better and would rather be home where I can mope in peace with my dogs.

I can't seem to shake this depression.  Absolutely nothing is as good as it used to be.  Everything I do is harder now - or at least different.  Nothing looks the same.  Writing out Christmas cards was a challenge, but I sucked it up and got it done, despite my new, sloppier handwriting that accompanied this vision loss.  Grocery shopping is embarrassing because I either have to wear my eye patch or endure the headaches of the overhead fluorescent lights, but I have to do it because we need food.  I can't drive yet, so I am a constant passenger, beholden to the generosity (and I am sincerely appreciative of it!) and schedules of those who are willing to help me.  Of course I am thankful to have the help, but I can't shake the bitterness that I need the help.  I hate having to ask for a ride somewhere.  I haven't had to ask for a ride since I was 15, before I had a driver's license.  Now, I am dependent, and while no one wants to admit it, I am also a burden.  I hate these feelings most of all.

I feel like I owe it to people to try to be cheerful.  No one wants to be around someone who is down all the time.  I just really don't know how to shake the constant fear and anger and disappointment I am feeling.  I am still angry that all this is happening.  I know it is nobody's fault that my extremely myopic eye finally gave out, but that doesn't matter because it still makes me angry.  I am angry my optometrist did not catch any early warning signs in my fairly recent eye exam.  I am angry I chose the Kaiser plan with a deductible because now the medical bills are starting to pile up.  I am angry that my vision is still so impaired a whole month after my surgery.  I am angry I had to have surgery in the first place!  I just can't believe there was not a way to prevent this!  If I could have seen a retinal specialist sooner, maybe this whole ordeal could have been avoided, but how was I to know I should seek the attention of a retinal ophthalmologist?

While easier said than done, the anger is something I know I really need to let go, but the fear is what grips me the most.  I fear that my vision may never fully restore in my surgery eye.  I fear that my surgery was not fully successful or that I suffer another retina detachment because I fear going through another 10 days with my face down.  I fear my good eye will suffer the same retinal detachment.  I fear going blind and becoming a permanent burden.  These are not dramatic fears.  These are real fears.  Real people suffer in all these ways, and I know that I am fundamentally no better than they are.  No one deserves to live this way, but it happens. What makes me immune?  Sadly, nothing.

When I was younger, I never really understood suffering.  I remember going to church with my parents, and the elderly folks would talk about "leaving this body behind."  At the time, I could not imagine why one would want to, but now I understand how your body can become a burden.  I am trying to remember that I am more than my body.  I am more than my limitations.  I want to be myself again - happy, funny, hopeful, and maybe just a bit naive.  I want to not have to worry about something so simple as my sight, but I think I may never again have that luxury.

I have a follow up appointment with my surgeon tomorrow.  I hope and pray for good news.  I need to hear good news.  Really, some good news is all I want for Christmas.  I don't need fancy electronics or shiny things.  I just need some reassurance that maybe things really will be OK again.  I need some news that will calm some of my fears and extinguish this anger.  As much as I need this, my family needs this because my family needs me to be me again.  As emotional as this is and has been for me, I know it continues to take its toll on them.  They share my fears, and I know they miss the less touchy, less mopey version of myself that I used to be before all this happened.  For their sake, as much as mine, I am praying tonight for a good outcome.