Christmas gratitude

I am so, so, so thankful to be baking on Christmas Eve!  I was "face down" over Thanksgiving, and while my family pinch hit for me in the kitchen, I really missed preparing the meals - especially making the pies.  I love cooking for my family, especially during the holidays, and I am just filled with gratitude that I am able to do it this Christmas.

While my surgery eye is still impaired, I am managing to work around it.  I don't know if my brain has adapted to relying on my good eye, or maybe my surgery eye is more useful than I think.  Either way, I have been able to complete a simple sewing project and a few other crafty Christmas gifts, and I am back in the kitchen.  It makes me so happy!

Yesterday, I took my first solo drive!  It was wonderful and empowering and a little scary.  Mostly, I just appreciate feeling capable and independent again.  In California, cars unlock the world, and my little piece of the world is expanding again.

Every day is getting better.  The gas bubble is shrinking, and my field of vision is increasing.  My vision outside the gas bubble is a bit cloudy (and will probably get more cloudy as my cataract develops) and still quite blurry, but it is good enough to have some basic peripheral vision.  It's harder to sneak up on me, and that helps me feel safer in public and capable of driving.  My vision is certainly not perfect, but I relish the progress.

I pray every day for continued healing, and I know many people have been praying for me all along.  I am filled with gratitude for answered prayers.  I feel extremely blessed on this Christmas for having such wonderful people in my life, and I am encouraged by the positive changes in my vision.  This is a very Merry Christmas in my life, and I hope it will be for you as well.

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.

The virtues of an eye patch

I finally broke down and bought an eye patch tonight. It's black, like a classic pirate patch, because that is apparently the only option available at any major drugstore. You can buy fashion designs online, but I refuse to make such an investment because I hope the patch will be a temporary accessory for me.  Besides, if I get a crafty urge, I could adorn the black one.

In terms of vision, the patch is an amazing help.  It seems ironic that covering one eye would improve one's overall vision, but when your patch eye distorts light and shapes, sometimes it is best to just eliminate the distraction.  For vanity's sake, I prefer to be patchless most of the time, but car travel at night gives me headaches.  I guess it is the stark contrast between the darkness of night and the distorted glare of the street lights and car head lights that gives me trouble, but I know for sure that the moment I put the patch on, my headache eased and my good eye was able to focus.  Of course, it was not as good as having two good eyes because my patched eye provided no peripheral vision, but it was a bit liberating to be able to travel without a constant headache.

When we left the house this evening, our only goal was to take the dogs for a drive, pick up a drive-thru dinner (really healthy, I know), and look at some Christmas lights.  For these activities, wearing an eye patch was not terribly embarrassing.  I caught a few people double taking at stop lights, but it did not bother me too much.  I can tell you, though, I will do everything I can to avoid wearing that patch in an actual social setting.

The elastic strap that holds the patch in place did not agree with my forehead.  When the strap began digging in, which was almost immediately, I fiddled with it.  I tried guiding it up, down, over my ear, behind my ear, etc.  No matter what I did, that strap was going to dig into my forehead.  After a while, I gave up and just let it be.  That was probably the best strategy for our driving (well, my "passengering," if I may use this made up term) activities, but if we had a social event at which to arrive, I probably would have been as embarrassed by the indentations left behind the patch and its strap as I would have been by wearing the patch itself.

The eye patch is not a perfect solution, but it is a reasonable way to cope with the glare that the gas bubble in my eye seems to embellish.  I hope that this glare will subside once the gas bubble shrinks completely.  I will add it to the list of "we'll see" outcomes.