• Tag Archives glaucoma

  • She’s Homeward Bound

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring                                                                          Planting Moon

    Kate’s in Lincoln, Nebraska.  She’ll see the international quilt museum tomorrow, then head east into Iowa. That’ll put her home on Thursday.  I’ll be really glad to have her back.

    Our plan about vehicles works well.  We have one at home, the Rav4 and when we need a car for a long trip, we rent one.  Usually now from Enterprise.  That way we put the mileage on the rentals and the Rav4 stays home.

    Feels like I’ve floated through the last three days, seeing the vet with Kona three different times, John Desteian, picking up and hiving the bees, taking meds that make me feel weird.  I’ve set aside my exercising–too much pain–and my writing and my Latin–too hard to concentrate.

    That’s life at times, one foot in front of the other, getting through the day and on to the next one.  I don’t feel bad about it.  At all.  Just what’s required right now.

    Tomorrow I see the eye doc.  Get my glaucoma surveilled and check those flashes of light I’ve begun to have in the upper left quadrant of my left eye.

     

     

     


    📂This entry was posted in Dogs Family 📎and tagged

  • Trust Your Senses?

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring                                                  Bee Hiving Moon

    I’ve reached the age when hearing that I have mild cataracts counts as a good thing.  Eye exam today.  Playing space invaders (visual field), still good in both eyes in spite of the glaucoma (eye drops).

    My ophthalmologist of 20+ years retired last year so this is only my second time with Dr. Brown.  She’s about 5 feet tall.  That’s with platforms.  She’s bright. “I see a stable eye today,”  she said.  A stable eye.  A good thing at any age.

    Every time I to go the ophthalmologist (which I cannot spell) my thoughts turn to epistemology.  Today I got to thinking about medical specialties that focus on senses.  ENT.  Dermatology. (sort of) Ophthalmology.

    Dr. Brown said to me today, “This visual field test tells me that your optic nerve is in good health.” A lot of ink has been spilled in philosophy over the degree to which we can trust our senses–since they stand between us and the world out there–but it occurred to me today that we never consider less than optimal senses.  What kind of information does an unhealthy optical nerve give me?  Does the degradation of visual stimuli correspond to a diminished or corrupted reality for me?  Ditto for olfactory, taste, touch, hearing.

    I know my world is different from yours acoustically.  With only one ear bringing in sound data I cannot easily find the source of sound.  My aural world is less rich than yours.   I don’t know that it’s less real, but it’s different.  In some critical instances, very different.

    Two examples.

    Emergency vehicles.  When I hear a siren while I’m driving, I can’t tell where it is.  That’s different than the experience of a person who hears normally.

    Vehicles approaching in a manner other than customary.  In England where they drive on the left I had to constantly remind myself to pay very close attention.  From the left is where I don’t hear.

    Anyhow, I’m curious about sensory data.  And what it can and can’t tell us.

     


    📂This entry was posted in Aging Health 📎and tagged

  • Kevan the Tool

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Fall                                                Waxing Autumn Moon

    We qualify for a special mortgage deal proposed by my favorite institution in America, Wells Fargo Bank.  We went in today to see Kevan, a home mortgage specialist.  Kevan had a computer screen we could see and he happily punched in numbers explaining the joys of this wonderful deal.

    Until.  “Can I see the type of contract you’re proposing we sign?  You know, the terms?”  “It’s all right here,” Kevan said, pointing to the computer screen.  Oh, well.  Since it’s on a computer screen, that’s good enough, right?  Wrong.

    “I’d like to see the language we’d be expected to agree to, Kevan.”  “The terms are right here.” Kevan pointed to the swing out computer screen.  Again.

    They weren’t.  What the screen showed was the advantage to us of taking the deal.  That’s all.  No other contractual information.

    Kevan and I did not get along.  We did, because I had my much smarter partner with me, go ahead and sign up because the deal could lower our monthly payments by a significant amount.  In the process of signing up however they collected information about our income and several pieces of what I consider proprietary information.  And we get nothing in return.

    We can still say no, but this was the only way (ONLY WAY) I could get to see the terms of the contract.  Kevan said it was a national program.  I pointed to the phone.  He could call the national program surely and get us the information.  He got exasperated then because signing up was the only way.  ONLY WAY.  Kevan is a corporate tool.

    Afterward, I toured a group of tall, elegant Somali teenagers through the MIA’s ancient art collection.  They were attentive and interactive.

    At 1:00 PM I went over to the Eye Institute where I had my semi-annual glaucoma check up.  This was the first time in over 20 years that I have not seen Jane West.  I now see Dr. Brown.  My eye-drops have dropped my pressures into the safe levels and my optic nerve is stable.  Between the holes punched through my iris in 2004 by laser and the eyedrops, we’re keeping that nerve as healthy as possible.

    I started out with a central hole in my optic nerve bigger than normal, so I have less room to accommodate change.

     


    📂This entry was posted in Art and Culture Health Politics 📎and tagged

  • Adding One More

    Posted on by Charles Comment

    Spring                                                       Waxing Bee Hiving Moon

    Played space invaders again this morning.  My ophthalmologist insists on calling it a visual field.  It tests peripheral vision, a clue to advancing glaucoma.  I have already been treated with laser holes for narrow angle glaucoma, but now, in a not surprising development, my pressures have inched up past high normal, so I’m adding another drug to my list.  These bodies definitely have a sell-by date and mine is beginning to turn brown like the lettuce in an old batch.

    In addition, to add insult to the diagnosis, my ophthalmologist, whom I’ve seen for twenty years or so, has decided to retire.  This is my last visit with her.  So, not only does the body begin to retire from its functions, so do the folks who take care of it.  My dentist retired two years ago; my internist left three years ago.  Pretty soon I’ll be the only one left.

    Sculpture.  Here’s a peculiar lacunae.  I bought the Grove Dictionary of Art on sale.  It’s 30+ thick volumes of wonderful information.  But.  It has no sculpture section.  Strange.  Lots of stuff on individual sculptors, traditions, sculptures, but no general article.

    Just finished the legcom call, now into Oceanaire for a birthday dinner with Mark.


    📂This entry was posted in Aging Art and Culture Health Retirement 📎and tagged