The First Incision
So the mother had to get up at the crack of dawn for the most unpleasant of reasons, she was having surgery. Not just any surgery, eye surgery. I'm not talking a quick somewhat unpleasant laser thing, but a clockwork orange lying on your back awake while the doctor takes sharp things and pokes about the lens in a most frightful sort of way. She has Diabetic retinopathy and her vision has deteriorated to such a point that her options were either to go with the surgery or accept her current limited vision and the reality that it will deteriorate further.
This is scary (explicative deleted).
I've said it before as a child I never really understood what it meant that my mother is diabetic. My understanding then was that her body didn't produce enough insulin, so she had to take injections. I thought it was basically a managed problem. So long as mom kept taking her shots all would be ok.
I did not know the amount of extra care that a person with diabetes must take with his or her body to prevent all the other problems that can occur. I didn't know about the problems healing from infections. I had no idea about the blindness. No one said a thing about the loss of sensation in the extremities. One guess what was a large factor in mom's cardiovascular disease which lead to eight bypasses.
It's days like today, when I've been slack with my exercise, slack about watching my calories or fat intake, when I realize that I've been avoiding going to see my doctor because I have not only not loss the goal weight but probably put on more than a few pounds, that I wake up and smell the coffee. These days are a shock. A terrible reality comes home wearing an eyepatch (not even a cool pirate black one, but a blue foam job that is taped to the face). I start exercising again. I go for my walks. I stop buying chocolate. I look at my gut not so much in disgust ( I cant really be disgusted with my own body) but with abject terror. This belly is going to kill me in my fifties, or worse make me some sort of blind, amputee completely dependant on others.
In Summary: I am exercising again, well at least until the fear abates. You are awake when they cut into your eyes. I never want to experience that.
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This is scary (explicative deleted).
I've said it before as a child I never really understood what it meant that my mother is diabetic. My understanding then was that her body didn't produce enough insulin, so she had to take injections. I thought it was basically a managed problem. So long as mom kept taking her shots all would be ok.
I did not know the amount of extra care that a person with diabetes must take with his or her body to prevent all the other problems that can occur. I didn't know about the problems healing from infections. I had no idea about the blindness. No one said a thing about the loss of sensation in the extremities. One guess what was a large factor in mom's cardiovascular disease which lead to eight bypasses.
It's days like today, when I've been slack with my exercise, slack about watching my calories or fat intake, when I realize that I've been avoiding going to see my doctor because I have not only not loss the goal weight but probably put on more than a few pounds, that I wake up and smell the coffee. These days are a shock. A terrible reality comes home wearing an eyepatch (not even a cool pirate black one, but a blue foam job that is taped to the face). I start exercising again. I go for my walks. I stop buying chocolate. I look at my gut not so much in disgust ( I cant really be disgusted with my own body) but with abject terror. This belly is going to kill me in my fifties, or worse make me some sort of blind, amputee completely dependant on others.
In Summary: I am exercising again, well at least until the fear abates. You are awake when they cut into your eyes. I never want to experience that.
More Laters
posted by Rich Rosenthal II at 1:04 AM
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