Karl (louderback) wrote,

  • Mood:

Live is an immense pain. One that is getting worse.

I've not posted since Saturday. Unusual for me, I think. I have to look back at my calendar one day and see how often I miss a day. Lots of news. I have a diagnosis for my vision problem. My mother is in very bad shape.

I've been busy. My mother is in the hospital and I've been spending time with her. She went to Emergency at 7:00 Monday morning, unable to breath more deeply than rapid panting. This continues despite oxygen.

Dr. Jujube has done an MRI and is searching for a blood clot. He asked my mother if she was sure that she didn't want life support despite her assertion to that effect in her living will. I find this unconscionable and will have some words with him. If naught else it is discouraging someone who is in his care, scared, and deeply in need.

My mother looks ancient to me. She is quite elderly, but hasn't looked her age until quite recently. For the first time she looked old to me. I think she is failing. She is certainly gravely ill.

I spend Monday and Tuesday with her at the hospital. I will spend part of the day with her tomorrow. I must, however run some other errands. I have to see Doctor Luke, my ophthalmologist. His office has screwed me big time. I turned over to his office my disability forms with an explanation that they had to be returned within ten days. Instead of filling them out and mailing the SASE enclosed, they mailed them back to me with a lame note to the effect of "Don't you want more current information?" They didn't call, they mailed it. Now because of their snotty attitude I have to hand-deliver the bloody forms tomorrow, convince them that the simple request is a valid one then spend days on the phone with Metlife, my employer, SS disability, and gods know who else groveling and sniveling until they accept my (arbitrarily) late forms so they can turn me down. One more complication in an already nerve-wrackingly complicated process. I hate having to do this sort of groveling before bureaucrats all because some snippy office-clerk decided to second-guess me.

My own news is good and bad. I have, at last, a diagnosis for my vision problem. That's the good news. The bad news is that there's nothing to do about it.

Back in Late June of last year, I began seeing Doc Aruba. At that time my blood sugars were running anywhere from 200 to 400 (100-160 is normal and desirable). Doc brought them down quickly to the desirable range, but I woke up one weekend with vision problems. I saw Doc Aruba and discontinued the medications I was taking, think that they were a factor even though there were no indications that my eye problem was a reaction to drugs. In a way, it was, in a way it wasn't.

The lens of the eye, like some other tissues of the body, expands when blood sugars are high. My lenses were expanded after months (years?) of high sugars with only relative brief periods of being low. When my sugars were reduced and stayed that way, my lenses contracted. They did so asymmetrically. This is not an uncommon occurrence. This caused my eyes to perceive streaks where there are none and to make things seem slightly ovoid. I also have very young cataracts. My eyes are now being clouded by them. These two facts amply explain my symptoms, streaking and "fog" that obscures my vision though there is no real evidence of retinal damage, damage or deformation of the optic nerve, or malfunction of the brain's "seeing" process.

If I rigidly maintain my blood sugar for a long time it is possible, though not likely or probable, that my vision could improve.

My mother must quit smoking. My sister must quit smoking. I must quit eating. Life at my house will not be worth living for some time to come. Enter at your own risk.


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