An attitude

her point of view, by Martin Fisch on Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons

I visited Dr H., the glaucoma specialist, today. My eye which formerly had high pressure is doing great with the three different drops I have to use, and hasn’t turned “beet red,” which is what happens to some people. But neither is my need for drops going away. It seems I have well and truly developed glaucoma from the extended use of prednisone eye drops to control the iritis my cancer drugs gave me. My other eye, into which I’ve been instilling prednisone drops for a few months due to more inflammation there, now has high pressure. There is no getting out of this loop, it seems.

I said to the doctor with some bitterness that I’d try to cultivate “an attitude of gratitude” (some might say I’m 50% of the way there). He agreed, without sarcasm. I didn’t ask to develop glaucoma, just like I didn’t ask to have cancer. Now I don’t have cancer, but I will apparently have glaucoma for, like, ever. It is cancer’s little calling card.

I came home and had lunch with Young A and J. Young A listened and chewed thoughtfully while I complained. Then he said, “It’s probably not true that you will have to use eye drops forever. Science might find new ways to deal with this.” It was such a thoughtful and reasonable thing to hear from the mouth of a ten year old. He’s right. Just as I’ve been a pioneer in a new type of cancer treatment, and somehow excelled in my response to it, so might I also have the chance to benefit from new ways of treating this eye condition. It wasn’t that hard of an adjustment to make to my mindset, and I’m grateful my kid helped me get there.

Besides, glaucoma is so much more relatable than what I’ve been through so far. I’ve already been in touch with one friend who has it. It is a condition people have heard of, and the treatment thereof doesn’t require nearly as much explanation as my cancer treatment did.

But it does appear that I’ll need to keep my prescription drug haggling skills finely honed. Forever (or as long as that lasts). I guess that speaks to the small part of me (possibly forged in the time I spent living in Italy) that needs a little bit of daily struggle in order to feel 100% alive, the part of me that needs to triumph against adversity in even the smallest way.

Thanksgiving is coming. Our turkey has been secured, we are planning Zooms with family, and when I think back to the bad old days of fasting three hours twice a day in order to take my cancer meds, having to put in some eye drops a couple times a day really is something to be grateful for. That, and I’m picking up my new glasses next week.

Four eyes.

6 thoughts on “An attitude

  1. I can’t imagine. Eye stuff is really tough. I mean you use them for everything. For some reason I get pink eye when the wind blows past someone ten miles away it seems like. And recovery is not even being able to sit and read. Much love to you Mama. Enjoy your T-Day. PS- I hope blogging becomes cool again. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love this. Young A is a wise, young man. All I was thinking as I was reading was, Oh F*#k. Which isn’t all that comforting. I like Young A’s response so much better. And he’s right! So, Oh F$@k for now ( It’s all I got) but somewhere, in some lab, some genius is working on glaucoma. I like that much better. ❤️

    Liked by 2 people

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s