You know how it is. You're living your life, minding your own business; have "got your Plan B" firmly clutched in your fist and you're working it. You've got systems in place, a fabulous mentor and that enviable of all things: a road map.
You've been there. You know what I mean.
Whap!
Into that wall you smack. Head on. And, without any warning, that Plan B flutters to the side of the road. It's usefulness? Gone - at least - gone in its present form.
Now what?
I can't tell you "now what?" for you. But. I can tell you "now what?" for me because while I was minding my own business, I smacked into one monster of a wall.
Remember when you were a kid and you had a nightmare? Once you could get through the gut-wrenching roar of fear so that you could look your nightmare in the eye, name it and then banish it, you felt much better. Right?
Okay. I'll just speak for myself here. I felt better.
Well then. It took four months before my monster wall had a name. February was the most stressful of these months because that's when all of the special testing took place and I learned how to spell "neuro-ophthalomologist."
What brought me to this place first made itself known last October. I was driving back home somewhat late at night. It was dark and I was driving in a light rain mixed with some snow. And, as I made the turn onto the entrance ramp to the expressway, I couldn't see. It felt like somebody had flipped a switch and I went from being able to see the road clearly to not being able to figure out where I was spacially in relation to everything around me.
I could see, but I'd lost depth perception. At least, that's how I described it to my neuro-ophthalmologist.
Pretty scary stuff.
I spent most of my first appointment with the eye specialist running through a battery of eye tests. Much to my growing uneasiness, whenever my left eye was given a task to do - a task that involved my having to look at something and report on what I was seeing, I wasn't seeing clearly. And, how badly that left eye was doing was evidenced by how well my right eye was performing.
That day's testing culminated in the first of two brain scans. The first one was to rule out the really scary stuff: stroke, blood clots and/or tumors. Back the next day for a reading of the scan and then more tests. And a second brain scan. And some more tests. And, we repeated some of those earlier tests.
Finally, with one last eye exam at the end of a very long day of tests, the beginings of a diagnosis emerged .... and my nightmare had a name.
Macular degeneration.
In other words: loss of central vision.
The University of Illinois at Chicago gives the best overall, objective definition of what this "challenge" is. And, the National Eye Institute offers one of the best PDF downloads on some of the more in-depth information on AMD.
Of special note is the 10 year clinical trial (AREDS) that the National Eye Institute conducted that showed that taking high doses of antioxidants and zinc could reduce the risk of developing advanced AMD and experiencing severe vision loss.
The study was careful to point out that "there is no cure;" that taking supplements will not not restore vision already lost, but supplements may delay the onset of advanced AMD.
Loss of central vision affects driving, reading and any other "thing" that requires your eyes to see straight ahead. And, there is a lessening of how you see color. When my right eye is covered and I'm asked to look at a colorful image - hell - just ask me to look at you standing in front of me - the colors I see are muted (dull) when compared to what my right eye sees when the left one is covered.
Interestingly enough what's not affected is peripheral vision. So. Perhaps I'll just walk sideways for the rest of my life.
There is, as you may suspect, huge denial in the early stages of dealing with this. And, I'm right there. This is so NOT happening to me.
Here's what pisses me off. If I choose to tell you about this when you ask me what's new, do not tell me how sorry you are to hear this.
Do NOT go there.
Ask me instead, "What are you doing about it?" Try very hard not to say, "Oh, my sister-in-law went blind from that 14 years ago." She may have. I don't need to know that.
If you've got a positive resource to share, do that.
Prayers are good. I'm so touched by the number of friends who stepped right up and said that they would pray on my behalf.
It's been a month since that initial diagnosis. I'm researching supplements, talking with nutritional experts; still driving although I'm not driving on the expressway at night, I'm still reading books and waiting to see my neuro-ophthalmologist for a summary visit: kind of a what's the game plan visit.
Am I still in denial? I have my days. This is not one of them.
I know I'm moving past that viseral, irrational, gut-wrenching denial part of this stage because I've been looking around for that open window. And, this morning, I stepped through it.
