Spider

I was tidying up in the kitchen yesterday afternoon when a black spider appeared close to my right eye.  I tried to brush it away and realised it wasn't a spider at all.  It was a large black floater dominating my field of vision.  It sank out of sight and a few minutes later came back again with a couple of small friends.   Panic.  But since the PVD diagnosis for the left eye a few months ago, I knew what to do, called a taxi and headed for the Eye Casualty clinic at the local hospital.

Five people ahead of me but I didn't mind. Just being there was a comfort. I would be dealt with. Leafed compulsively through the one magazine on the waiting room table. A local community newsletter about Hay on Wye.  I read through the features, returned to the beginning and started scrutinising the small ads in desperation. The spider came and went.   The other five: an elderly man and his male friend; two women (I couldn't make out which one was the patient) and a young lad with a cold chatted and/or stared at the ceiling.

Called into the triage section.  A motherly and reassuring nurse took the relevant details and put dilation drops into both eyes.  A different waiting room.   They'd made an effort with the decor - prints of cheerful impressionist paintings, an Ansel Adams photograph.  More magazines.  A wider selection here: She, Good Housekeeping, Country Living,  and even Hello (I know, I know, when you're in a hospital waiting room you'll read anything. It occurred to me that I only recognised about half the celebrities featured).   I was contemplating tackling a caravanning periodical when my name was called.

It was obvious Dr Patel knew what she was doing. She sat opposite me at the ophthalmology machine.  Chin on the machine, a succession of dazzling bright lights, white and blue, in the eyes.  Look upwards to the right.  Downwards to the left. Focus on my right ear.  Keep your eyes wide open.  I know it's hard.  She handed me a tissue.

So it's just PVD again.   Floaters rather than flashes this time but the same thing.  Grateful to have been seen.  Grateful to be reassured.  Still have to watch out for the signs of a possible retinal detachment but I feel like an old hand at this game now.

On the way home I debated why I hadn't asked my neighbour to accompany me. At the hospital  I had alternated between a wistful melancholy that I had no-one metaphorically to hold my hand but at the same time I was relieved at not having to worry about anyone else's welfare - especially with the long wait.  My neighbour is lovely but I don't know her well enough to feel comfortable in this kind of situation. It seems that when the chips are down I rely on myself. This is the way life is now and I'm not sure I am capable of changing it.  Besides, I've been robbed of my independence these past few years and it felt good to get a little of it back.

The spider is still with me this morning.  Maybe as time goes by I'll start to get fond of him.

Flashing

You see, I don't want to come on here and just tell you about my ailments, which  I've been doing a lot of recently.  So I'll tell you about the Posterior Vitreous Detachment in my left eye diagnosed by the local optometrist. It doesn't count because it's not an ailment.   The helpful and reassuring piece on the RNIB website, says so.  No, it is a natural change that occurs in the eye in many people as they get older and the symptoms are floaters and -  the thing that is really stressing me out -  rapid light flashes on the periphery of the eye concerned, particularly in the dark and dimly lit conditions.  Apparently these symptoms can last from a few weeks to a year, with most cases settling down and resolving at around six months.  So it's a fairly long haul.  Just to up the anxiety, in the first two or three months you are more at risk from a retinal detachment, though this is fairly rare, but if the symptoms change or worsen I have to get to A&E pronto. My friendly neighbour has volunteered to ferry me there if necessary, day or night she says.  I'm grateful.

Six weeks in now, and I'm staying in well-lit places, including sleeping with the bedside light on because I can't cope with the firework display in my left eye when I awaken in the dark.

Why had I never heard of this?

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The theme that resonates more and more is : simplify.  Things you no longer need - give away what you can, sell anything you can sell.  When I'm fit enough the plan is to downsize and move to a smaller property closer to the centre of town which requires less maintenance. Walk to the shops, to the library, to see friends. I no longer want to fritter away nervous energy on stuff that drains me needlessly.  Time and health are increasingly precious, dear God they are.

  Pretty pink.  The new gardener, Brian, nice man, gave me some cuttings.