At my follow-up eye exam today I learned why I’ve been having so much trouble seeing. And I also learned that my instincts that something wasn’t right were dead on accurate. My right eye, the near one, healed far stronger than expected. Instead of measuring 150 it measures as a 3. Basically I have a microscope in my head. The doctor said there is no way I’ll be able to adjust to this; that I either need a second procedure to my right eye or to get glasses.
Thank goodness the special I got includes lifetime adjustments.
I have to wait three months for the eye to fully heal before it can be lazed again. At that time, and with my eye’s measured response to the first procedure taken into account, a correction will be made that should allow me to see the way I want. In the meantime I have two pairs of glasses that have a clear lens in front of the left eye, and a corrective lens for the right. The lens shifts my focus point out from 10 inches to a more useful arms length.
I’m not thrilled about having a second procedure performed, nor am I happy about wearing glasses for the next two months. But being able to sit up and see the computer screen is worth it. Even going through all the post-op stuff will be worth it.
And for all of you who know me, and have been aware that my patience with regard to this was non-existant, I say “nuts to you”. My bad for not calling the doctor sooner because I knew something wasn’t right when day after day after day I couldn’t see. Your bad for not hearing that I was genuinely concerned that something was wrong and counseling patience.
Michele always said that I need to come with a warning label, perhaps a tattoo on my forehead others could read stating, “Poor Impulse Control”, or “Will Play With Your Head.” In any event she was well aware of my willingness to verbally poke at people if only to discover their hot buttons. Never to be malicious, just to understand what made them tick. Some people display their buttons more openly than others, and some need to just stay indoors.
When I’m driving I often toy with the driver behind me, particularly if s/he wants to tailgate. Crowding me in an effort to make me go faster or to get out of their way when there isn’t an open lane for me to move to will result in my slowing down, not in my speeding up. The expression on the face of the following driver who just allowed me to ratchet up their blood pressure is always worth the few seconds I add to my drive.
Recently I’ve discovered a new game: instant message chat status messages. I can cause at least one of my correspondents status message to change just by changing mine. Over the weekend I saw a bumper sticker I really liked. The sticker, an obvious play on the popular “WWJD” wrist bands read, “What Would Scooby Doo?” In the past couple of days I have started using this as a chat status message. Every time I have one of my correspondents has immediately changed their status to be something biblical. Like watching the people in your sparring division at a tournament to determine whether they are right or left handed, and does their body favor high kicks, learning that this individual can be poked with religious humor and knowing their response gives me tremendous insight into their thinking and behaviors.
Of course I realize that I have buttons too, and for the most part I know what they are and how I respond to their being pushed. I’m also reflective enough to recognize when someone has discovered a new button and is poking it (deliberately or inadvertently). Who’s to say that I’m not above using my buttons as a lure to discover more facets of the people around me?
My mom called me last night and we had a wonderful conversation on the phone. She had been to her cancer treatment in the afternoon where her blood counts were high enough for a chemotherapy treatment. One bag of chemicals instead of the normal two, but a treatment nonetheless. She was tired from the outing but alert and herself on the phone. She even managed to eat some solid food for the first time in days.
She and I have been exchanging emails for a couple of day, with the draft text of her eulogy embedded. She is sending me, via “snail mail” some revisions she would like. While it is a bit strange to collaborate on her eulogy with her, it feels good that she is pleased with its content. My hope is that it is a long time before it has to be presented.
Since she was a little up from Sunday when I saw her last I am thinking that I won’t return to Illinois until the first weekend in May. My fervent hope is that nothing changes in the intervening days to accelerate that schedule.
The past couple of evenings I have been a total zombie. Getting up the energy to make dinner has been an effort. Monday evening I cheated and just had scrambled eggs and bacon. It only takes a few minutes to make, it’s hot, delicious, and good comfort food for me. Last night I ordered-in from the nearby Chinese restaurant. Best part, other than spicy good food, is leftovers for lunch today.
Monday night I had a bout of insomnia and was still awake after midnight. Of course this added to my lack of energy yesterday, and, even though I had a good night’s sleep last night, I still feel tired today. About all I’ve been able to do several nights in a row is to sit in the over-sized chair watching Tivo. I haven’t even bothered to bring a laptop with me. (I will admit that not being able to clearly focus on the screen makes bring the laptop with me a bit of a downer.)
This afternoon, after my eye exam, I hope to get some laundry done. Maybe having a chore to accomplish as soon as I get home will give me some impetus for the rest of the evening.
It has been just over four weeks since I had LASIK surgery to my eyes. The changes, while immediately apparent, are still not what I had hoped for. When the literature says your vision may not stabilize for six months they really aren’t kidding.
Halos The halos around lights at night have diminished to a tolerable level. Whereas the first couple of weeks I had to wear sunglasses even at night to cut the effect now I notice, but am not really bothered by, the halo effect. Recently while looking up at a starry sky I discovered that the halos aren’t full circles any more, they only exist on the nose side of each eye. More of a crescent than a halo. I take this as a sign that the incision continues to heal, and I hope that means there is more improvement in my overall vision on the way.
Far Vision For the most part I am able to see distances satisfactorily. The sharp focus I expected isn’t there, but I can read road signs and generally exist in the world. What is disconcerting is when my brain decides to use the near eye in a distance situation. Driving, particularly when the windshield is covered with bugs, my brain wants to focus on the bugs and not the road ahead. Most of my daily computer usage seems to be through the far eye, which I did not expect. It isn’t able to clearly focus on the screen, but I can see well enough to get along. I also notice a delay in being able to see clearly when switching from reading or using the computer to walking or driving. My brain is slow to change eyes at times which is annoying.
Near Vision Up to a distance of about nine or ten inches I can see with great focus with my near eye. Once in a while it seems like that range increases briefly, only to return to the hand span distance I’ve had since right after the surgery. Peering out of the top of my eye (like you would do to look over a pair of glasses) I can see farther with the near eye; again making me suspect that the incision is still interfering with clear vision straight ahead. Earlier in the day I can see better with this eye, but as the day progresses my vision deteriorates.
Overall On the whole I have very mixed feelings about this experience. If in five or six more months I can see as I expected to as a result of the procedures I’ll be very pleased, and will likely owe the doctors and staff at LASIKPlus an apology. At tomorrow’s check up I think they are going to get an earful of frustration and fear. The single thing I wanted to be able to do without glasses was use the computer, and that is still the single thing I can’t do today.
Would I recommend this to other people? Not yet. Until they tell me that my eyes are fully healed and that my vision is where it will be as a result of the surgery, I can’t know whether this was a good decision or not. Right now I’m trapped in limbo, not knowing if I made the biggest mistake of my life or bought myself years of glasses free living.
Throughout your life you exist primarily inside a sphere called normal. Accidents, surprises, successes, and failures all move you around inside the sphere but you rarely approach the edge, much less cross that boundary into lunacy. The scope of normal is far greater than most of us would readily admit and, if we as a society were more willing to communicate honestly, the less odd we’d all feel. The fantasies, dreams, fears, and thoughts we hide inside are shockingly like the ones everyone else is hiding.
Trouble only starts when some event or combination of events pushes us hard against the thin membrane that separates the edge of normalcy from beginnings of lunacy. The loss of a loved one is certainly big enough to shove you way out of your comfort zone. I saw that in Michele after her father died. Losing a second loved one while you are still flirting with the edges of the sphere can easily take you well beyond the borders of safe and sane into uncharted territory. When Virginia died, Michele crossed into her uncharted territory, the area on old maps where the legend reads, “here there be monsters.” There is no way for me to know how much this displacement of normalcy played in her decision to die. That it did play a part I am certain.
I have spent the last six months crossing and re-crossing the boundary between sane and not sane, between known and unknown. My moments of lunacy have resulted in brief episodes of uncontrolled rage and destruction (my printer being the prime example). Every time I have crossed into the howling wasteland that lies beyond “normal” I have heard in my head a voice of reason that calmly brings me back to known ground. If I were to indulge my addictive side with drugs or alcohol I think the tie that secures me here would snap and I’d be lost in the wasteland for ever.
The impending death of my mother frightens me in a way I can’t really put into words. Michele always said I was the strongest person she’d ever known, that my courage and strength were awe inspiring to her. The coming weeks will put her assertion to the acid test. I have used so much energy just to make it this far, and, having circled once through the edges of lunacy called despair, I do not know where I will find the determination to survive that journey again. I only know that I must husband my energy, and choose my course carefully.
For here there be monsters.
One of the joys of owning and using a Windows based computer is protecting it against the constant onslaught of viruses, worms, exploits, and malware. The ThinkPad came with a (surprisingly) short trial subscription to Symantic. When I started getting notices about the end of the trial at 60 days I began looking around for other software to use.
Through a magazine article I was aware of Microsoft’s ‘OneCare’ beta and thought I’d give that a try. It combines virus protection, spyware protection, and some basic system performance tuning and maintenance functions in one spot. The beta is free until the end of April and if you sign up for a year prior to May it’s only $19.95.
Downloading and installing the package was rather cumbersome. In typical myopic Microsoft thinking the install process would only work with IE. I actually had to dig down into my Program Files folder to find the executable for IE, as I had removed it from the desktop, quick start menu, and start menu. You have to use a Microsoft passport id to sign-up for the beta, and all future dealings with Microsoft regarding OneCare go through that id.
Once installed OneCare acts a bit like Zone Alarm in that it notifies you of outbound connections as well as inbound ones. By and large it has been unobtrusive and easy to configure. Digging through the advanced settings I was able to add the necessary ports for Synergy and Tivo Desktop to work. It even schedules backups of your data.
After using it for a couple of weeks I was ready to buy. Clicking on the “purchase now” button in the software triggers a web page in my default browser. Once again I had to dig up IE and transfer the URL in order to play. The OneCare site insists on treating you like you haven’t got the software. You have to sign in, and then run an Active-X component to test your system. In three attempts over the past two days I have been unsuccessful in getting past this step. Basically their site refuses to work and it is preventing them from collecting my $19.95. Even using the “help” feature was a bust. All it would allow me to do was sign in and sign out repeatedly. I did finally manage to send an email to their support group stating my problem and the error code I was getting. Depending upon their response I may be at the computer store this afternoon picking up a copy of Zone Alarm.
Update: I got a response from Microsoft OneCare support. It consists of four major sections comprising nineteen (19!) steps for me to take to complete the purchase. In effect they want me to delete all my IE cookies, reset the security levels on IE, disable third-party extensions in IE, un-install OneCare, and then re-install it using the purchase option. All to give them $20.
Unbelievable.
The rest of the software world lets you convert beta or trial editions to fully functioning software by going to a site, entering your credit card information, waiting for an email, and pasting the serial number into the software. I guess making money the easy way was too difficult for the id10ts at Microsoft World Domination HQ.
After returning home yesterday from seeing my parents I had a major bout of the blues, with a heaping side helping of rage. I am certainly grateful that I have been able to visit my mom several times since her prognosis was changed to terminal in February, and I wouldn’t give this time up for any reason; however, it is brutally hard to be trapped waiting for the end to arrive.
My anger last night was in part at her for smoking for sixty years. We all have addictive personalities and sometimes it is harder than others to avoid the pitfalls our addictions carry with them. My mother felt that since both of her parents smoked and neither of them had lung disease or cancer that she would get away with it too. That her gamble failed fills me with sorrow for I know it cuts her life short. It also angers me as her life is now cut needlessly short.
What is so difficult about the swirling mess of emotions I am feeling now is not knowing what will set me off. It isn’t big things like work or paying bills, but rather little things like getting a web site to load, or having the balky Tivo remote not work when I go to use it. I think that facing the imminent death of a loved one leaves you out of control on so many levels that you look for, consciously or unconsciously, little things to dominate to regain some semblance of control. When those little things don’t work out as you planned, all hell breaks loose.
After I vented for about thirty minutes (breaking the kitchen trash can lid in the process) I cried for another half hour before coming down. Between the long two-day drive, and the dumping of so much high energy emotion I was wiped out. Shortly after 8:00 I was in bed, and by 9:00 I was asleep. This morning I feel better physically, but I’m still kind of numb emotionally.
Seeing my mom this weekend was wonderful and bittersweet. her vitality is greatly diminished, and she is sleeping a lot now. The medical staff warned her and my dad that she would sleep more and more as the end got closer. Also that the amount of pain she would experience would increase. While her pain level is creeping higher it isn’t debilitating yet.
I know that the past fourteen or fifteen months have taken a real toll on my father as he has had to single-handedly tend to the house and care for my mom. Home health care is coming several times a week, but he has stepped up and taken care of everything possible. The affection and concern I see in him when he assists her, or makes her a smoothie, is touching and very real. I am proud of my dad for the grit and character he is showing as he watches helplessly from the sidelines as his wife of forty-five years dies.
While I was there the two of us went the funeral home to see what options they had to offer. My mom has given him some indication of the music she like at the service, and he wanted to compare the chapel at the funeral home to the sanctuary at their church. No firm decisions were made yet, but my dad was able to ask several questions and have them answered, which I know helps him.
My mom and I had a couple more good conversations, filled with tears and laughter. As I was leaving there this morning she held my hands and told me that she didn’t want me to make a heroic effort o come to her bedside when she is dying. With it being such a long drive she doesn’t want me to take any chances. As she said, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Even now as I write this the love and caring in her voice and eyes leaves me crying.
Originally my plan was to return there every weekend until she dies, but the length of the trip and the time it takes is wearing me down. This week I am going to monitor her decline through my dad over the phone, and late in the week I’ll decided whether to return in seven days, or fourteen.
Last evening I took a short stroll around my apartment complex, mostly to burn off some nervous energy. At some point during my walk I glanced up at the night sky and discovered that the stars no longer have full-circle halos around them. Instead there is more of a crescent shaped halo.
In fact covering first one eye and then the other I discovered that the crescents are asymmetrical. For each eye the curve of the crescent is towards my nose. The right eye sees what appears to be a series of speckles in the sky where the star should be, slight bowed to the left from top to bottom. Whereas my left eye sees the star with a curved line of light bent slightly to the right bisecting it. I am pleased by this as I think it means the incision is finally healing completely, leaving only a portion of the cornea disturbed. Maybe once I see lights at night with no halos I’ll be able to see the computer screen clearly as well.
Next week I have the first follow-up exam since the day after my surgery. I’ll be curious to see what they have to say about my progress, and what their reaction to my upset regarding the lack of the one visual range I was most eager to gain, arm’s length.