Got an appointment with my ophthalmologist Doctor Vaezi this Tuesday and I have some fun questions I am going to be asking him.
Like, wasn’t the whole point of cutting my eyes open and mucking about in there twice in May to make my eyesight better?
Because I hate to break it to you, but it’s been three months plus and I have the worst eyesight of my lifetime.
I can’t see shit. Even at the distance to the computer screen, which was supposed to be the place where I could see the best, things are blurry and I feel like I am trying to view the screen through rippling water.
And other distances? Forget about it.
Clearly, something went terribly wrong. Either I screwed things up horribly by showing up to the operations with sky high blood sugars and then not understanding the instructions for the eye drops, or you fucked something up when implanting the new lenses into my eyes, or some or all of both.
So level with me, Doc. What’s the situation, and can it be fixed? I am not looking to assign blame, I just want to know what happened and whether my eyes are going to get better or not.
It could be that I just need to get a new pair of glasses. Fine. I can afford them. I would not be thrilled about it but at least I would be able to see again.
But it could be that my eyes are permanently fucked, and if that’s the case I want to know what happened and why.
Because something has to have gone very very wrong, Doc.
And I need to understand what.
Did the Wound Care Clinic thing today, otherwise known as the Changing of the Bandages and Packings.
I could have sworn that the previous time I fucked up my leg, the wound care nurses really worked with the wound to make it heal faster. They rubbed and trimmed and fussed over the wound, at least at first.
But this time, apart from the first time at the ER, all they do is change the bandages, and that is something I could theoretically do myself.
Not as well. But it could be done.
Oh well. My nurse today was named Joy and she was quite sweet. I had to confess to her that I had added two more wounds to my right leg by picking at the “devitalized tissue” (as one doctor put it) on my leg all around the formerly infected area.
“Devitalized” sounds so much better than “dead” or “necrotic”, doesn’t it? Essentially all the epidermis between my knee and ankle on my right leg is dead.
But it can’t be removed, it appears. Because underneath it is a forest of wounds and lesions just waiting to be unleashed.
But with all that dead tissue atop them, how will they ever heal?
Anyhow, I was on the phone for my weekly phone therapy session with Doctor Costin and wrapped up in the conversation and my hand wandered down to try to remove some of that dead tissue with my fingernails.
So that gave me two brand new wounds. Yay.
To top it off, this time the nurse decided that some of my lesions didn’t need to be covered any more because they were all scabbed over and dry.
And I was too embarrassed to admit that they were only scabbed over and dry because the bandages kept me from picking at them.
Like the Collar of Shame they put on dogs to keep them from biting their stiches.
So now I have to battle myself to keep from picking at them and making them worse.
The universe is inherently hostile to my dignity.
More after the break.
Periods of agony
And not the kind that responds to Midol.
I’ve had some pretty rough patches today, where I felt like every bone was slowly and tortuously grinding against its neighbor and my head felt like it was going to pop like a zit and I just wanted to scream like an enraged ghost.
A big one. The kind that used to pick on Casper.
Luckily, these periods always have the same cause : sinus pressure. So I can make them end by clearing my nose and my ears so the pressure can get out.
Best not to think about exactly what that entails.
Fine, it’s snot. It lets the snot out. Ya happy??
Sleep continues to be a maddening phantom always just out of reach. No matter how sleepy I get, my sleep remains brief, fitful, and unsatisfying.
That’s what SHE said. (Shoot me. )
I am honestly considering booking a cheap motel room for a couple of nights just to give myself someplace clean to sleep.
The ideal situation would be to spend a few nights at a decent motel while professionals come in and thorough clean this incontinent pig’s sty of a room I live in.
I can’t clean it myself. I am too tired and weak for such a big job. If this place is to be cleaned, I will have to bite the bullet and hire professionals.
And then fuck off while they do their work so I am not hovering over them getting in the way while my stomach ties itself into knots from my fretting.
And shame. Oh god, the shame. I am not proud of having let my living space get this bad. So much cringe. So it would be best if I am not around while they clean.
I am perfectly fine with trusting them to know what they are doing and not wreck my shit. They can do what they want with everything but the computer itself.
And I mean, the stuff in the computer case. They can clean the monitor, mouse, speakers, and so on till their heart’s content.
It would be like one of those home makeover shows. I go away then come back and ooh and aah over how transformed my humble space is.
Expensive, probably. But worth it.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.