This is another one of those posts where I've thought of a few different way to begin. One way occurred to me just now when I sat down: It's a good thing Lucy broke my nose.
The other one was Kevin and I were talking a few weeks ago while in the office. He glanced at the bookcase and wondered "What are you going to do with all those books? Just keep them forever?" It's a fair question because more books come in this house than leave.
I explained that some day I will be old, unable to leave the house, and will have the opportunity to read each them again. Remarkably, he seemed satisfied, if not a little nostalgic, with that answer.
Then I got a migraine - it's NOT what you're thinking - and it was attributed to Lucy breaking my nose. Which it was, and then there was something else. The headache prompted me to call the eye doctor because my eyes have been challenging lately. I attributed it to working from home and being on the computer way too much.
I have to change eye doctors because mine is retiring. I'd been thinking about switching anyway and this was just the extra push. I chose to go to the eye specialist clinic near my work, where my mom also goes. It feels a little "Take a Number" with patient care but they have state of the art everything. I don't need them to be my friend.
Two years ago, I had the beginnings of cataracts. After a consultation, I was told that I had a few years to worry about it but come in if anything changed. And here we are.
The guy who did all the screenings was pretty cool. I made a Doctor Who reference and he got it. He was thorough and good at explaining what all these tests were going to do. One test took a long time, multiple times, and just seemed like a lot. I attributed it to it being the eye that is significantly lesser than the other. It wanders around my head, it has terrible vision, it's basically decoration.
Then the actual specialist came in, did some more testing, looked at the results then did more testing. He's scribing to the tech in the room and I hear "There's sodfusdofisdflskdfj on the macula." My ears perked up because that's a thing. I don't want to hear anything ever about the macula. You'll understand in a minute. He didn't say anything else, finished the test, then began reviewing the results.
Now, because the universe just likes to eff with me, English was his second language. I would guess he is from somewhere in the Scandinavia area. He matter-of-factly with a heavy accent begins to explain the results, mentions that the cataracts need addressed and "There is the beginnings of Macular Degeneration." Matter of fact, almost like I knew it already. I did not know already.
So, pause. Macular Degeneration is hereditary and it is rampant among the women on my maternal side. All of them went blind. Great grandmother, grandmother, aunts, great aunts. I have been being monitored for years.
The expectation though is that it strikes in the elder years. NOT IN MY DOGDAMN FIFTIES. The doctor even mentioned "Wow, you're Really Young to have this." I think he meant it as soothing but it wasn't. Also: "Rarely, there is a genetic link and can occur in younger people."
It could be said that I've been waiting for this. However, I thought I would be in my sixties before having to worry about it. I had been told "Oh, there will be treatment developments by the time you have to worry about this." How about No?
Details: It's like a dirty lens on your glasses but it's on your eye. It affects how the eye communicates with the brain. It is incurable, there is really no treatment, and eventually blindness happens. But wait, that's not fun enough: the blindness is in the center of your eye. So you have peripheral vision, until you don't. AND I have the "good" kind of the disease.
I made it through the remainder of the appointment, during which because I'm so *lucky* I had to make decisions about the cataract surgery. This surgery is not a simple one because of my vision so there are variables to be considered. I will still need to wear glasses for close-up and for the amblyopia.
It also bears mentioning that the doctor kept referring to it as "Mac Gen" and I felt like I was in a television medical drama. I get that the name is kind of a mouthful and people tend to abbreviate but ack.
Now that wasn't fun enough, I had already flipped my brain into combat mode, there was more. I then had to go with another doctor to schedule the surgery and go through all of the details. For THIRTY MINUTES, I had to sit and review paperwork and make more decisions, and schedule everything. And this is just for the cataracts. This is politely ignoring the other diagnosis.
The cataract surgery happens in two parts, one eye at a time. Then there is a ton of follow-up visits. Day after surgery, week after surgery, two weeks after surgery, one month after, etc. I will get new glasses once everything is healed so there will probably/might be a time between surgeries that my vision will be jacked. Meaning: no driving, etc. SUPER. Because this can't possibly go like a normal surgery.
Finally, I was able to leave. I had been there for two hours. I sat in the truck, took couple breaths then had a little cry. Because: Fuck. A minute later, I straightened my shoulders and phoned Kevin. "How'd it go?" he asked, a little distracted but concerned.
"Not great" I got to tell him. I heard him power down whatever he was working on to listen. I explained what happened and he just said "Okay. *deep breath* Okay, we'll just deal with it." Which is what I would say if the shoe was on the other foot.
Strangely, when the specialist first told me that I had it, I flashed to the conversation with Kevin about the books. I better start reading them now, I told myself in that moment. Then on the drive home I took a few photos of the clouds and that hit me: photography has become one of my favorite things.
Once I got home, I had work to do so I couldn't process or wallow. I had to just gut through it. I set all the paperwork aside and just...wait for the pun...avoided eye contact with it. I visited with a friend later in the day and I don't think I was able to convey the whole thing, I was still in it.
Yesterday I did some research, even though I'm already aware of this disease because of my mother. The biggest take-away that I had was that becoming a vegetarian can be helpful. The intake of fruits and vegetables have been proven to help. So, that's a thing I'll be trying. There is no capital-M medicine to take for it; but there are vitamins and minerals which are helpful. I'm actually relieved about that.
So, I ordered a blender, I made a grocery order, and ordered the vitamins. Some of which I already take. I bought a pill organizer today and have it already filled. Then like a funny little consolation prize from the universe, when I bought the organizer the pharmacist said "It's purple, do you mind?" I'm all "No, that's one of my favorite colors actually." It's a little thing but I'll take the metaphorical assist.
Now it's been a few days and I'm starting to bounce. Every once in a while, like happens in grief, I get sucker punched by the words Mac Gen. I'm trying/not allowing myself to borrow trouble. I'm not going to think about anything in the future. I'm just going to think about how I need to learn how to love smoothies. I'm going to have to become a hippie: vegetarian, exercising, taking vitamins & minerals, being low-key.
Oh, and back to the beginning of this post: without Lucy breaking my nose and causing me headaches, I would have dragged my feet with this appointment. So, I guess I have to thank Lucy.
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