(no subject)

Urbandruid is one small little document away from being done.

And the funny thing is that I don't feel accomplished or anything, just really, really tired. Part of it's the heat, and the fact that I don't feel too well, and the rest is probably just minor to nonexistant. Or something.

You would think I'd know better by now, but I still expect things from my relatives that they can't do. Things they seem to be incapible of.

I wanted to draw this out, make it...interesting or something, in some way, but I'm feeling it's not worth the effort anymore. I told them, and they just...sat there. And then my grandmother changed the subject and went back to rambling at us about the book she's reading that she has to return to a friend of hers, only she doesn't remember what it's called. And she's telling us the plot and probably telling it half wrong, and- argh.

It's been a while since I've wanted to run crying from the room where she's concerned. screaming, cussing, and throwing things, yes. But crying, no.

Fuck.

Things Seen & Unforseen

Some of you know this about me; I have less than great vision. Some of you know more; that I can't drive, that my vision problems can be a pretty major stumbling block in the way of a lot of things.

I don't know how many of you know the full story, mostly because I don't talk about it much. I got asked too many questions when I was in elementary school, and I guess I got sick of it back then. Anyway. I was born with congenital cataracts- it's a genetic thing on my father's side. He's got it, his mother has it... I don't know how much farther back it goes, because, well, they and I don't speak anymore. At all. And we haven't, for... Goddess. Years. More years than I can count.

I think I was twelve the last time I saw my father, maybe just a shade past thirteen the last time we spoke on the phone.

And part of the reason I don't get into the subject of my eyes much is that it's hard to talk about it without talking about my father, and that's a subject that I try to avoid. See, it goes a bit like this: I'm still very angry at my father, for a lot of things, and there's no way those things are ever going to be resolved.

You learn to try and let things go, and sometimes it works better than others. Sometimes it works best if you never bring it up at all.

So. Long story short; I was born with cataracts. They were probably there from birth, just too small to see. They grew, of course, until they had to come out. There's only one problem- to remove the cataracts they had to take my lenses. So for as long as I can remember I've had to wear these horribly thick glasses, without which I am almost blind. I can still see things, get around places I'm familiar with, but everything is mostly a blur of color, light. And mostly I do okay with the glasses; I've learned to cope with what I can and can't do.

The glasses, though, are- you may have noticed from the number of posts bitching about how they've screwed them up again- very hard to make. Very. I have a complicated prescription because there are so many things that have to be compinsated for. Throw a bifocal in there, and it's a bit of a mess. And since the only real vision I get is through the glasses, they've got to be perfect. I think I've grown more sensitive to silly little changes that can corp up, too- I've worn my current pair of glasses for two years now, and the new ones have to have a nearly to absolutly identical curve to them, or everything goes all blurry on me. Not good.

One of the 'perks' of my eye problems- note the sarcasm, please- is that every year without fail I have to see a specialist, an ophthalmologist. That's an eye doctor with an M.D., as opposed to the optometrist at, say, Wal-Mart, that most of you can get away with. I'm at risk for a lot of not nice things, many of them worse than what I'm putting up with right now. Detached retina and glaucoma top the list of Stuff I Really Don't Want.

I had a friend with detached retinas when I was younger; met her at camp. She was blind. I don't remember how it happened to her, but I know how it could happen to me. One good blow to the head in the right place with the right force, and- bam. Like a light being turned off, except there's no way to fix it.

That's been my greatest fear for a very, very long time.

I didn't do a lot of PE in school. I got hit with every baseball, softball, dodge ball, basketball- you get the idea. I was okay at volleyball- I had time to duck with that one.

I spent my youth keeping score on games I'd never learned the rules of. Why bother, when you can't play?

But we'll skip the Why High School Really Sucked For Me stories for another time, shall we?

My ophthalmologist, the same one I've been seeing since I was eight, excepting the few years I lived north of Sacramento, is a woman, and I really like her. Adore her, actually. I went to see her back in April. She's a pediatric ophthalmologist, which is kind of rare, but the pedes are the only ones who know what to do with me. Most everyone else will only see the more usual kind of cataract patiant- you know, old people.

This year she sat me down- well, I was already sitting, but you know what I mean- and we had a little talk, about how one of the other partners in her medical practice does interocular lens implants, and how she wanted me to see him.

Well. I was floored, just floored. We'd talked about it off and on over the years, but the technology wasn't that great yet, and none of us (me, my doc, and my mother- Dad was never much involved with this stuff even when he was around) wanted to risk it. But things change. I'd never seen anyone who thought a lens implant could be done on me. I only have really usable vision in one eye, my right- another long story- so people are reluctant to deal with me, and I'm often reluctant to let them try things on me. That plus the previous five eye surgeries I've had- two cataract extractions, one where they had to scrape a calcification off the left eye, which was where and when I lost most of the vision from it, and two eye muscle surgeries, which were horribly painful for ages afterward- Well, I am Scar Tissue Girl, and I have kind of small eyes to begin with, so...it's a bit of a mess in there.

But I thought, hell. If my doc thinks it's possible, I'll see the guy. Can't hurt to talk to him.

So I made the appointment, went in to see him. He did an exam, the usual for me, pressure tests and dialation drops and look into this extremly bright light while I scope out the backs of your eyes and everything inbetween, and...

He said he could do it. No question, he could do it. Apparently I still have lens capsuls- think plate rack, only without the plate- where lenses could be placed.

From there it might have seemed simple, but it's not. I had to learn the risks- and there were a few that freaked me out pretty badly before I got a handle- and some odds- on them. And then I had to think, and think... because there's a pretty minor chance, but a chance nonetheless, that I could lose my sight if I go through this. Probably won't happen, and the biggest risk is infection, which only an idiot would ignore the signs of. I am, by the way, absolutely paranoid about my eyes, and every problem I've ever had since I've been old enough to reason, I have caught on the first sign of trouble.

Sometimes paranoia is good.

And even with the risks understood and accepted, it still required thought...because if it worked, things could change almost as drastically as if something went wrong. I would be able to see- not normally, never normally- but well. Better. Well enough to probably be able to do a lot of the normal things which are beyond me now. A drivers' license alone would change my world. Turn it upside down. I had to decide if I was ready for that- if I could cope with it, not physically, but emotionally.

I saw the surgeon a bit before my finals, so I had to kind of shelve the matter for a while. And between finals and recouping from them, I put it off for a bit. I just wanted to relax, enjoy my summer, hang out with my friends. I knew I'd have to come back to it, though. Make a decision before I went nuts from the indecision.

Two weeks ago I double-checked the odds on the worst of the possible complications. Rolled the numbers around in my head for a while.

And I decided- I'm going to do it.

July 31st, I'm going in for surgeryon my right eye. It's outpatient , so I'll be able to go home when it's over. How long it'll take I don't know; I have a preop check with the doctor on Thursday.

I'm excited, nervous, and going a little crazy. I have chosen to turn my own world upside down. But maybe it needs it.

And I'm ready.