Yesterday, the ophthalmologist diagnosed my vision problems as anterior basement membrane dystrophy. His proposed “fix,” beginning with my left eye, is to perform a superficial keratectomy. Superficial keratectomy involves surgically removing and smoothing the corneal surface of the eye. According to the doctor, the solution is almost always successful. The right eye, suffering from the same condition but not as severe, would follow the successful healing of the left. After I returned home yesterday, when I did some research about the condition, I learned the condition is also called map-dot fingerprint dystrophy, a diagnosis I received when experiencing similar symptoms several years ago, quite a while before I moved to Hot Springs Village. At the time, eye drops alleviated the symptoms. Recently, when I visited a local optometrist, I mentioned to her that years-ago-experience and told her of the earlier diagnosis. Until yesterday, I did not realize the badly degraded vision in my left eye and the accompanying itch were simply a new iteration of an old problem. The initial recovery from the procedure general takes 3 to 7 days and complete healing can take 6 to 8 weeks. I scheduled the procedure for next month; the problem has been wrecking my vision for a long time and I am more than ready for a solution. Assuming the results of today’s PET-scan are good, I will keep next month’s appointment for the procedure.
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Freeway traffic, especially during the commute rush, tends to be an anxiety-inducing experience for me—even in and around Little Rock. The tension arising from bumper-to-bumper, high-speed, automotive near-entanglements causes my neck, shoulders, chest, and arms to tighten. The tightness remains for a while, even after leaving the unsettling experience behind me. I was delighted, therefore, when my wonderful friend offered to drive the “back road” to Little Rock yesterday for my appointment with an ophthalmologist. Instead of the nerve-wracking, high-speed drive on I-30, she took the almost-traffic-free route on Highway 9 to an equally peaceful, tree-lined country into west Little Rock. The difference in my state-of-mind between traveling the high-stress course versus the low-stress itinerary had an enormous impact on how I felt upon arrival. The fact that I did not have to drive yesterday, even on a country back-road, also helped my frame of mind considerably. Sometimes, wisdom and serenity are almost indistinguishable.
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Another friend will give me a ride to today’s PET-scan appointment today. Though I am confident I would be more than capable of driving myself, there is no question my ongoing fatigue could have a negative impact on my response time and my mental sharpness, if I did. So I am more than a little grateful that I am able to depend on her generosity and willingness to give up her own time to make my day quite a bit easier. I think I am finally reaching the point of understanding the truth in what I am told: “Do not look at it as an imposition…your friends want to help you.” I know I feel strongly about wanting to help friends; I am not quite sure why I have always been hesitant to accept help, thinking it an imposition on others.
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Until announcements of his death spread like wild fire through news and entertainment media, I do not think I had ever heard of Liam Payne, nor his former band, One Direction. I have no doubt his fall from a Buenos Aires hotel balcony was a catastrophic blow to his family, friends, and fans, but I wonder why the media pounced on the tragedy with such force and volume. The reason probably rests in the fact that consumers of media seem to have a ravenous appetite for morbidity. Consequently, the media happily obliges the public with all the gruesome details of airliner crashes, celebrity deaths, wars, mass shootings, murders, ad nauseum. And the public’s hunger for such distasteful news gives the media reason to dig up as much of it as possible. But why do people seem to have so much deep fascination with such emotionally distressing stuff? If I knew the answer, could I do anything to change human nature so people would recoil at such news, rather than revel in it? I am afraid not. I sometimes wish I were not part of the same species that finds the revolting so compelling.
