Welcome back to bitching on the internet, me. It's been probably close to a decade since I've written random crap on a blog - apparently, when things are going well for me, I'm wildly less funny than when I'm waist-deep in depression and anxiety.
Nobody get too upset, I haven't fallen back into a spiral of sadness and melancholy - I simply turned 40. Two magical things happen when you turn 40: you stop giving a single fuck about anything, and your warranty expires.
It's one of those amusing jokes that you hear all your life and think "It can't be that bad." When my parents turned 40 in 1988 (which, as we all know, was merely 10 years ago), there was an entire industry built on making "Over the Hill" merch for 40th birthday parties, where everything was black and decorated with gravestones. I'm not sure when that ended, but I'm slightly sad that I didn't get a death-themed 40th birthday party like my parents did.
Within a month of turning 40, I managed to tear or strain my rotator cuff (shoulder, for those of you too young to have random pains) doing CrossFit, even though I had done the same thing for 3 years prior and nothing ever happened. Within a year, I had bifocals. Things were looking dicey. A lot of important parts of my body were suddenly breaking, and based on the 101-year lifespan of my Grandma and the 94 years of my dad's biological mom, I wasn't even halfway done living in this body that was constantly in and out of the shop.
At the ripe old age of 43, I woke up one morning and my left eye had accumulated an unpleasantly large glob of something that would go back and forth when I moved my eye, like a windshield wiper. I put in my contacts, realized this new feature of my vision was not going to be washed away with some extra contact solution, and grumbled my way to work. Even though I could see through the translucent glob, it was still wildly annoying. By the end of the day, I had a headache from trying to ignore it while working. I decided to see if I could get into my optometrist to see if this was anything serious, but he didn't have an appointment for 3 days.
Three days later, I hauled my headachey ass into his office, where he told me that I had "posterior vitreous detachment," which is basically when the water balloon inside your eyeball that contains vitreous goo disconnects from the wall of the eyeball. While this is apparently common as one ages, it was mentioned that it's a lot more common in 73-year-old than a 43-year-old. Whee.
I was told that after a week or so, the new floaters would settle at the bottom of my eye and my vision would likely return to normal. There was no fix for this, no reason it happened, and no way to prevent it - really the most comforting trifecta of explanations one can get from a medical professional. I left and prepared to have a headache for a week or so then return to my normal life.
But alas, I am over 40, and things are no longer simple like they once were. Three days after the doctor's visit, I woke up with a partial eclipse of my left eye. Just a round black shadow that was ominously creeping from my lower left corner of vision. Unlike the familiar glob of goo, this eclipse was not translucent - I couldn't see through it at all. I have concerns, but I was hoping this was another "floater" that was going to settle politely at the bottom of my eyeball in a short time and I would regain my vision and normal life.
Within a day, the eclipse had grown to a size where my depth perception was being affected. I somehow managed to drive myself to work and back, and the next day I drove myself to the ER. I haven't driven since.
First I started at Urgent Care, since my optometrist was both 1) in Riverside, 35 miles away, and 2) it was Sunday. The urgent care doctor, with minimal equipment, seemed highly concerned that I might have a retinal detachment, and sent me across the street to the ER. After waiting in my ER bed for probably 2 hours, a doctor and PA came in and did an ultrasound of my eyeball - something I was not aware was done to eyeballs in the first place. And no, they don't squirt the goo right on your eye, there's a weird plastic patch they put over it, then they squirt the goo and rub your face with the ultrasound machine. It was weird.
ER doctor could not confirm from the ultrasound, but also suspected a detached retina, so he got me an appointment with the ophthalmologist the next morning at 9am, who consequently confirmed the detachment (yikes) and got me in with a retinal specialist the following day at 9am. By this time, I could see only the top 30% of my field of vision in my left eye and I couldn't drive.
Retinal specialist was like "Oh yeah, that's a detachment" and said he'd get me scheduled for surgery ASAP. During Thanksgiving, ASAP meant Monday, December 1 - 5 days of half-blindness and inability to go anywhere that I had to survive before I would be fixed. That, and he said that he had to put a gas bubble in my eye (um what) and that I have to be face down for at least a week afterwards. I had the option of getting a different kind of gas bubble where I might not have to be face down for as long, but I couldn't get on a plane for 3 months because of the pressure difference. I'm going to Vietnam in (checks notes) 1 month and 13 days, so that's a big NOPE considering the trip is paid for.
My mom is on her way here to take me to and from surgery, and help me when I have to lay on my stomach and whine for the next week. As a back sleeper, this is tantamount to torture and I'm less than thrilled. But at this point, I would really like my vision back because I'm bored as fuck right now.
Ten years ago I would've fallen into a deep "woe is me" depression, but as a 43-year-old, I'm just irritated with the inconvenience of it all. This is all just very stupid and I'm over it.
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