she's just saying...

Why medical insurance is so high

In spite of a number of laser treatments, surgeries, and other weird procedures, I still need an eye drop daily to keep my eyes in long-lasting working condition. This is the same eye medication now being sold as a lash extender, and if I ever don't need it for my eyes, you can bet I'll be making some good money peddling it on the black market. (ha ha! just kidding! really)

I order it from my mail order pharmacy and they send three little bottles at a time. Each bottle contains about a half teaspoon. So the other day I got my shipment, in this:

A five-pound box with ice packs and padding, for 1.5 teaspoons of liquid. Overnighted. All for $30, including shipping. Don't get me wrong - I'm not complaining, and thank dog I have health insurance. The actual cost would be more like $450 or so. Worth all my premiums! So what's my point? I don't really have one - I was just struck by the whole thing. What do you think?

Octo-boring

Sorry to be so silent, but things are pretty dull around here. In an discouraging repeat of last fall, my eye surgery recovery started off great and then suddenly not so much. Without going into detail, I'm healing too fast (?) which is conversely screwing things up. This is all too familiar.

Rather than mess around for weeks trying different approaches to fix things like last year, my man Jason is taking me back into the operating room next week to deal with it. Meanwhile, I'm supposed to lie low, I have a dull headache and my eyesight is half-way blurry due to dilating drops.

Lying around the house is really not as much fun as it sounds. Especially on the heels of that cold/sinus infection where I got my fill of nothing. Baseball is on, but I haven't latched on to a team yet so am kind of "meh" about it.

When I think of something interesting to write about, I'll check back in. In the meantime, I guess I'll keep posting cute animal pics.

Eyeball update

Surgery was successful and easy. No pain yet, only a little blurry vision. I've spent the day sleeping, shopping online under the influence of anesthetics and wandering around the hotel lobby. I look like I've been in a bad fight, I'm moving a bit drunkenly and I'm wearing sunglasses so the staff is intrigued and whispering.

The hotel offered a (free) breakfast this morning that I squirreled away for after the surgery and hosted a (free) wine and appetizers happy hour tonight - sweet! The new season of "The Good Wife" begins tonight that my eyebrows are happily anticipating, so life is fairly pleasant, all in all. Sure beats last time.

Thank you for all the good wishes -- really, I'm feeling guilty for having such a pleasant little get-away.

Since you don't want to look at my eye right now, I'll post a pic of the hotel lobby.

Silver Cloud Inn, Bellevue. Tell them that mysterious lady sent you.

one eye down, one to go

It's sad that I have to schedule surgery in order to get away for a few days rest.

Here I am, laying back on a king-size bed, watching a first-run movie, eating shrimp phad thai in a quiet comfortable hotel in Bellevue, Washington. I'll be here for two more days, relaxing, reading, knitting and maybe taking a walk in the park across the street.

However, one little detour first: in twelve hours I'll be lying unconscious while a surgeon threads a suture around my right iris and draws it up like a pursestring. Oh, well. Minor price to pay for a little away-time.

Meanwhile, back to the movie...

Friendless in Seattle

If it's September, it must mean... eye surgery! (Isn't that what it means to you?) Yes, I'm going back for more because it was so much fun last year.

Actually, this time it's the other eye, it's a less-invasive surgery, and should be much simpler. The downside is that Dr. Cute doesn't do this procedure and the nearest surgeon is in Seattle. Ordinarily I love going to Seattle, but this time it probably won't be as much fun. For one thing, I'll be in Bellevue vs. downtown, and for another, I'll be having surgery.

It shouldn't be that unpleasant though. I'll be staying in a nice generic hotel in a nice generic city, near a large mall. The only snag is that the surgery center insists that after the procedure I can only leave in the care of a responsible adult. A cab driver doesn't count.

My friend Mark and I have been through many operations, moves, crises and weekend trips together and he'd be my obvious choice, but for two things that he pointed out; he can't leave LA in September due to work and he doesn't qualify as a responsible adult. It's also about as far away as you can get from New England where my sisters live.

I kind of hate to ask a friend to come up with me, as I really only need the help for an hour and other than that it would be a long boring trip. One option a friend suggested is to hire a personal assistant-type who drives seniors around to their appointments and errands. It may actually be the way to go, pathetic as it might seem. I could go the social networking route and post a request on Facebook or Craig's List, but that seems kind of desperate.

Another friend has chimed in that if I'm going to actually hire someone I might as well enjoy it, so go for a Chippendales dancer or the like. Probably not. Wouldn't be prudent. But any other ideas are welcome...

Problem solved.

High-brow

Despite my TIVOs and HD and all, I'm not a frequent TV viewer. If I'm lucky, I'll catch three shows a week, other than keeping half an eye on Sponge Bob while Henry's watching (and baseball of course). But I'm very excited about the premier of "The Good Wife" this fall.

I'm a huge fan. It's a terrifically smart, nuanced, gorgeous show with a great story arc. But mainly I watch it for Julianna Margulies' eyebrows. I can't take my eyes off them - they steal every scene. You might even say I'm obsessed.

If you've been watching TV or looking at fashion mags in the last year, you've probably noticed something going on with eyebrows. They're longer, darker and much more defined. What, you don't notice eyebrows? What's wrong with you?

At one point in the depth (heighth?) of my obsession, I bought an eyebrow pencil at the MAC counter. (This involved buying the sharpener that went with it, as the saleswoman informed me that since the pencil is triangular it needs a specially-shaped sharpener. I figured she sold a lot of them that way so didn't point out that the sharpening hole is actually still circular.)

Anyway, I went home and had a fascinating time "feathering in" as she put it, and damned if I didn't look more like a sharp junior partner of a fancy Chicago law firm. Since my brows then put my hair and wardrobe to shame, I put the pencil away until I was worthy of it.

However, I read recently in the New York Times: "...looking ahead to fall 2010, the brow is bolder than ever, whether aggressive or playful." So this fall I'm definitely going the bold, playful route. And maybe even occasionally aggressive.

I'm very serious. And so are my eyebrows.

Urban renewal

I flew up to Seattle and back yesterday. For an eye doctor appointment -- gone are the days when I would fly a one-day r/t for business. It was fun to be back on city sidewalks.

There's nothing like a city for energy and buzz. Bend, on the other hand, does not have buzz. It has mellow. Pleasant, but definitely laid-back, even if you're working just as hard. I used to be hooked on that buzz, but I don't know if I could handle it now on a daily basis. But it sure is good to experience it now and then, and there's a lot about cities I miss.

You can now take a sparkly bright new train from the airport right to downtown for $5 round-trip. I put on my city commuter face and it was very easy. Sometimes cities do things right for a change. After my 4-hour appointment (seriously!) I had time to experience the city and so of course headed for the nearest yarn store for an absolutely necessary purchase.

This is what I love about cities - here are the other stores on that block:

• Alchemy, a bookstore with "magical" books and supplies. It looked intriguing but I didn't explore.
• The Honey Hole, a neighborhood cafe. Ditto the above.
• Babeland, a sex toys shop. Um, ditto?
• Stitches, the yarn store, my destination.

That's as far as I could go, as I had to stumble my way back to the airport. Stumble because (irony alert!) I broke a contact lens at the eye doctor's. My eyes had been dilated and because I didn't bring my prescription sunglasses I had to wear one contact under my regular sunglasses. Blurry and half-blind, I wasn't in the mood for more shopping or sightseeing. I needed to sit down near the flight gate, have a beer and peer at a magazine.

All in all, another novel day. For those who are wondering, this new eye doctor does recommend the still-somewhat-experimental surgery for my right eye. For those who are now really wondering, I have glaucoma and underwent a long and annoying surgery experience on my left eye that no one wants to repeat. Though the drugs were good while they lasted. Until they weren't.

Mon oeil!

[French expression for "My eye!" Similar meaning as "my foot!" oddly enough.]

Eye update. I just got new glasses.

I got my first pair of glasses in second grade. They were wonderful pink cats-eye frames with sparkles. In third grade I moved on to the blue ones with sparkles. My eyes were so bad I got new glasses at least once a year. In college I switched to contacts and never looked back. (ha ha "looked" - get it?)

The biggest obstacle for me to accept regarding my glaucoma surgery was that I now can't wear contacts. Actually, I can wear one contact. That seems a little risky. And blurry. And headache-producing. But hey, you have to suffer for vanity!

But for everyday, I really have to wear glasses. I decided on the geek chic look this time, only a few years after the trend died out. I consider these my anti-Sarah Palin look. Damn right I'm wearing glasses, and not those "let's pretend we don't have coke-bottle bottoms wired to the front of our face" rimless ones.

With these new glasses, I can drive at night again, which means taking Henry to open gym, the indoor skate park, movie night at the local swim center, etc. -- all those things I pawned off on his friends til now.

The downside to a new prescription is that I now see my kitchen floor is filthy.

The operated-upon eye is doing well - the filter is doing its thing and the pressure is down. Now we have to tackle the other eye. As Dr. Cute says, "you'd have to be crazy to get that procedure again," so we're looking at something new. Unfortunately, the doctor to do it is in Sacramento. Why couldn't it be somewhere more interesting? I foresee (he!) spending a few lonely nights in a nondescript motel on the outskirts of a dull town. Anyone want to join me?

It's your birthday! Take another vicodin!

I can pinpoint the moment birthdays ceased to be exciting. November 13, 2007, when I turned 51.

My fiftieth was fantastic, actually: an all-nighter at a club in San Francisco followed by a tour of the wine country from a little inn in Calistoga. My (younger) boyfriend didn't freak out about my turning fifty (at least not that weekend) and my gal pals took me out for a wonderful dinner and celebration.

51 was unmemorable - I think Henry and I went to Red Robin. And last year on my 52nd I had a migraine and went to bed.

That brings us to this year. It started with an argument and tears about homework (Henry cried too). My eye is blood-filled (sorry), swollen and bruised and I'm spending the rest of the day in bed. Don't worry, I'm not alone: my cats and dog are happily lying on top of me.

But it's really not all bad. A friend came by with flowers, and she and other friends are bringing over dinner tonight. My facebook wall and blog comments are filled with best wishes, another compelling example of the power of social media. And best of all, the entire nursing and office staff at my eye doctor's entered the exam room this morning, sang Happy Birthday and presented me with a brownie and candle.

As my sweet doc said: "We feel like you're part of the family." Hmmm... Is that a good thing?

Potatoes? For me? You shouldn't have!

A birthday song

 

Happy birthday* to me
Happy birthday to me
And what a great present;
More eye surgery!**

*tomorrow
**today

Super Glue my what?

If someone, even a doctor, offers to Super Glue your eyeball, just say no.
I'm just saying.

At least I get more intravenous drugs

Rogier van der Weyden's Descent of Christ, Proda Museum

Tuesday it's back to the surgery center for another poke in the eye with a sharp needle.

My eye is still not healing, and after 24 visits to my favorite eye guy in the last two months, we've decided it's time to act.

Warning to the squeamish: gory details in the next paragraph!

[The good news is that the "trap door" created by the first surgery (the trabeculectomy) to relieve the intraocular pressure is still functioning well, the point of the whole exercise. But the conjunctiva surface has never healed completely, and my eye is leaking a bit and is in danger of major infection in the inner eye. So Dr. D is going to haul up the remaining conjunctiva and re-suture.]

It's a quick procedure with shorter recovery and my vision should improve, so no biggie. I don't think I'll need to trigger the casserole parade this time. But it's still a good excuse for a pedicure.

The Seven Dwarves: Teary, Cranky, Testy, Achy, Sad, Mean and Psychotic Breakdown.

It's been one month since my eye surgery. My eye aches and leaks, my vision is blurry, I can't wear mascara, I'm always hungry and I've gained five pounds. All that would make me grumpy enough, without the additional help of the mental side effects of the prednisone I'm popping.

Quoting from the FDA here: "Psychic derangements may appear when corticosteroids are used, ranging from euphoria, insomnia, mood swings, personality changes, and severe depression, to frank psychotic manifestations. Also, existing emotional instability or psychotic tendencies may be aggravated by corticosteroids." The euphoria is long gone -- we're well into emotional instability and maybe even dipping our toe into the sea of psychosis. Best to stay out of my way. As my son and co-workers can attest.

My dog is on prednisone as well, for a degenerative disk in his neck. (We don't share prescriptions, as his tastes like liver.) Together we walk around the house, searching for stray food someone might have dropped. We have to pee a lot too, but maybe that's TMI. Flash's psychotic tendencies date well back before his medication, though -- those of you with border collies know of which I speak.

 

 

TTT: Lessons from September

1. Doing nothing is a learned skill requiring one to let go.
2. Doing nothing + prednisone = 5 lbs.
3. The Deschutes Library's audiobook download system rocks.
4. New vocabulary words: hypotony, dehiscence, choroidals.
5. Accepting help can be a generous act, whether chores or casseroles.
6. Local is a better choice for doctors as well as bookstores.
7. I'd rather have Valium than Vicoden, if you're offering.
8. A doctor who gives you his cell number for the weekend is priceless.
9. Inner peace can be as close as hanging with pets on a porch.
10. Living two blocks from a produce stand is the bomb.

"Cross my heart, hope to die,"

"stick a needle in my eye..." oh, wait, my eye doc just did that.

In what may be a first in blogging history, I'm writing this sitting in the doctor's chair during breaks while he places sutures in the conjunctiva covering my eyeball.

You all know I love my eye doctor. I obviously have to, since I'm letting him do this, the first time he's attempted it in an office setting, without even any intravenous sedation.

I wasn't expecting this this morning, but this unresolved complication has been keeping him up at night and I really want to put his mind at rest.

Oops, here he comes with the needle again.

More later.

----

Home again. Couple of Vicoden, glass of wine and I'm good as new.

So, Jason admitted that though he's never done this procedure before at his office (without the operating room microscope), he called his buddy who's done it a lot who told him it was no big deal. There may be times when complete disclosure is not always appropriate in a medical setting and this may have been one of them but I was game so we gave it a shot. I channeled my best Buddhist meditative state, stared into the light and put my eye in his hands.

He told me he didn't think he wanted to read my blog tonight but he has nothing to worry about. I'll take his honesty and caring over standard physician arrogance any day. Plus, as I told him, he messes up and his name is mud in our alumni newsletter.

My eye guy

Everyone, meet my eye doctor, Jason Dimmig. Isn't he cute?

I've seen Jason more than any other adult in the last two weeks. Not kidding. We pretty much have a daily thing. Don't tell his wife.

Looking up. Literally.

Things are getting a little weirder around here. Just got back from my eye doctor, with new instructions: "Don't look down, and I'll see you in two days."

Seems there's a little leak at the top of my eye (ew! ew!) that my lid is keeping together, and when that heals, I can go back to normal activities. In the meantime, I have to focus straight ahead as much as possible.

There are way too many puns and analogies and metaphors to be made here, which I won't. You're welcome.

The primary position I've held for the last week, looking down to read and knit, is out, so now I'll be propping pillows for books and ignoring anything below my nose. I've also maybe been a teeny bit too active and have to dial it down even further. This may now be the right time for pharmaceutical intervention.

At least I was prescient enough to get a pedicure before the operation, so my feet should look nice. I wouldn't know.

 

In which I do nothing, then take a break

I think I'm getting the hang of doing nothing. Really, it's not so bad. And I'm not even on drugs.

What I have been doing:

• Eating
• Wandering around the house poking things with my toe that I can't pick up
• Watching the Red Sox via computer
• Teaching Robin to knit
• Wiping the counters -- I really like clean counters
• Making stuff to eat
• Un-hibernating the tweedy sweater. I had to relearn the pattern, remember where I made the mistake so I could re-create it on the next section, and dive in again. Very gratifying.
• Trying to remember which eye drop I just used
• Doing the daily Sudoku
• Presented a PowerPoint research analysis to the Museum Board from my bed
• Snacking
• Pointing at things for Henry to pick up
• Wandering around the back deck
• Looking for stuff to eat in the fridge

Don't you envy me, just a little bit?

Enforced nothingness

So due to circumstances that are NOT MY FAULT, I'm now on doctor-prescribed bedrest to maintain a stable state of eye.

Last week's surgery to relieve my eye pressure worked a little too well, and my eye now resembles a slowly deflating water balloon. That makes it vulnerable to bursting blood vessels and other gross stuff, so now I'm on hourly drops and the no-stress-no-strain unactivity plan. I feel totally fine, we're still stocked up from the Unitarian casserole brigade and Henry is remarkably self-sufficient, so here I recline.

A confession: I've always envied people on enforced bedrest. It sounded so lovely to this stressed-out and slightly compulsive working mom. A nice stretch of not doing anything and not feeling the least bit guilty about it. I'd be entitled to read, knit, watch movies, get people to bring me stuff, surf the interwebs, etc. But here I am on the first morning of it and I'm antsy and restless, of course. 

One problem is that I'm congenitally incapable of watching TV during daylight hours. (Exception: baseball.) I just can't bring myself to do it. It's just a short step from that to 500 pounds and a crane hauling me out of my bedroom window. So that option (which includes movies) is out. NPR, podcasts and audiobooks are better, but that's because I normally do something useful while listening. However, talking heads do start to drone after awhile. And local radio = no good.

Not that I consider myself energetic, believe me. I don't chomp at the bit to hike/bike/climb/ski stuff like most of my friends (who are all a little tightly wired IMHO). I'm known more for hanging out at home: knitting little morsels, solving sudokus, creating recipes, digging in the garden, fixing endless broken crap, wrangling the pets and haranguing the child. High-energy puttering, my old roommate called it. I even meditate for crying out loud. However, now that I'm parked on the reclining side of the coin only, it chafes.

Clearly I need more practice.

the view from the head of the bed

Drop by drop by drop (by drop by drop)