Blinded by the Light

November 27, 2007 | Category: In My Life

It's a universal truth of humans, I think...

Believing that there's always more time.

So, wait, I have a point somewhere.

Right. Now I remember. So, on the way to St. Ives with this sack of cats, trying to find out why my hands go numb.

We've found so many fun things so far. Infections and brains and such.

But the root cause still not determined.

So the next step, in my Doctor Bingo, was to spend yesterday with an aging and abrupt Ophthalmologist. My beautiful son patiently playing with his Leapster in the waiting room.

"You see your Optometrist annually?"

I nodded.

She sighed.

She shook her head slowly.

My heart sank, my ultra-dilated eyes trying to make out the expression on her face.

So, anyway.

Lupus has quietly been killing my eyes; the inflammation causing a retinopathy that is robbing my sight. Sneaking like a thief into the night, collapsing the blood vessels that carry oxygen to my retina.

It is permanent.

The most severe damage so far to date is to my left eye. My right eye is stronger, rocking the house while that lazy ass left one has been out by the pool. Unfortunately, depth perception needs 2 eyes in stereo so that probably explains why I nicked CD's Passat some weeks back pulling out of the driveway around it.

Ahem. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

She said that this moment, right now, is the best that my eyes will be for the rest of my life.

It is downhill from here, and the only factor in how long I have is how well I can control my flares and my blood pressure going forward. So, more steroids, more tests, more awareness.

I guess the damage has been happening quickly so it was damn lucky that my doctor got a niggle that I should see an ophthalmologist for hand numbness.

Which? Have I mentioned? Is still unexplained.

Also?

I'm pretty pissed. At no point on this carousel did I expect that looking for a reason for hand numbness would lead to losing my sight.

I should have had some damn warning. A pink slip into my dreams. A dove crapping 'check your eyes' onto my windshield.

A premonition.

Something.

I haven't seen all I want to see yet. There is still so much more ahead of us.

The slow, exploding smile of my son as he figures out a puzzle. The sly sparkle of my husband's come-hither glance. The swirl of hair and teeth and arms as they throw leaves at each other in the yard.

Until I've seen it all, then it can't go dark. Every pout, every landmark, every freckle.

There is daylight left in this day. Some random Monday doesn't get to echo with the Imperial Death March, bringing shadows and gloom.

It doesn't.

Because I say so.

There is still time.

There has to be.

Still.

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