10/8/2011 7:56 AM
I have a sneaking desire to begin these blog entries like Walter Cronkite updating the news during the Cuban Missile Crisis—“It’s day nine without eyesight,” then I’d probably trail off into something incredibly serious sounding. Did you know he signed off his newscasts during the crisis with “I’ll see you tomorrow--*dramatic pause*-- if there is a tomorrow.” John Stewart has collected the nuts of men for far, far less.
Waking up is becoming a perpetual kick in the face, and I don’t mean that to sound as borderline-emo as it does (oops, Snow Patrol just licensed it as a song.) You see, when the doctors think that your blindness is based on synapses in your brain-parts simply telling you that you’re blind, you go to bed thinking you’ll eventually sleep it off. So you bounce up at 8am like a kid on Christmas and soon deflate when you realize you still can’t see out of your right eye, your head feels like an alpaca took a dump in there, and you will be hobbling around like an invalid trying to take your morning pills.
Side rant! Who in their right flipping mind decided one of my medications should be taking HALF of an already microscopic pill? I have to cut that thing every morning, and it is a hilarious failure of modern science every time.
Side rant to the side rant! You know what’s really fun with pills, and trust me, I have so many to choose from: choosing between pain relief and constipation relief. Seriously, that’s a choice I get to make in the morning. Today I have chosen to relieve my constipation, so I might be a fair bit more prickly than usual, and I’m well aware how large of an overshare that is, but how could I not share that?
Were we still talking about Cuban Missiles?
Okay, I’m gonna stop myself, and feel free to do the same when I get carried away feeling sorry for myself. This isn’t meant to be a soapbox where I openly bitch about the baseline number of pepperonis’ to be considered a “full” bagel bite (the answer is seven.) I want to share the experience of going through this without having a pity-party every time I launch half a pill across the kitchen. I’m doing awesome, I mean, I’m home! I get to be home on a daily basis now. How is that not the best news ever? Even better news: my sister and my brother-in-law did an Extreme Home Makeover on my house while I was gone. I say this with no exaggeration: the house has never looked better. They redid furniture placement, did my laundry, cleaned every surface in the house—it was the best feeling walking home to that. If only we had a bus to shout out of the way and a four-dollar spiked haircut on a 60-year-old tanning bed victim… this blog will grant asylum to no one, I got Walter Cronkite and Ty Pennington in the same one. Achievement unlocked.
So, recovery ain’t a perfect road, but I get to share my experiences from my own home as BoyzIIMen mp3’s blare in the background. I’ll take this as the first half of a victory. Hey, maybe I’m just bad at slicing victory in half on the counter.