Old Stinks...But It's Better Than the Alternative

You know you're getting old when the first page of the Contacts on your cell phone all start with "Dr". Mine has 4, and this week I was glad one of them was there.

Sunday morning, I walked out of the house on the way to Wal-Mart, and winced. The brightness of the morning caused a pain above my left eye. By Monday morning, I was convinced that my old friend Iritis had returned for a visit. It's an inflammation of the iris in the eye. Sometimes, the iris will stick to whatever it slides against. When a bright light causes the pupil to contract, the friction (stiction?) is painful. Biblically painful, as in "If thy eye offend thee, pluck it out". In the past 10 years, I've had two episodes, and know the symptoms fairly well. I called the ophthalmologist and made the first appointment I could...2:15 on Tuesday.

Tuesday morning dawned, and I sat in the dark. Any time my eye tried to dilate, the pain was intense. I sat in the dark until my appointment, unable to look at a computer screen, read, or do much of anything. I discovered that I could mitigate the pain by wearing my sunglasses in the house. After tripping over stuff for several hours, I showed up at the doctor at 2:15, and by 2:40, I was diagnosed as, indeed, having Iritis. I left with a bottle of eye drops and an appointment to come back in a week. The drops are a steroid, and a miracle drug. After two applications, the inflammation was gone, and the pain with it. The bad part of this is that even though it feels better, it takes several weeks to clear it up. Until then, I get to put a drop in my eye 4 times a day, and see the ophthalmologist once a week until he blesses me and tells me to go and sin no more.

Well, enough of feeling sorry for myself. I guess the good part of this is that I have the doctor and treatment, and am feeling well enough to write about it.

Another good thing is that tomorrow morning, Steve the Cabinet Guy will be here with his platoon of Meso-Americans to finally finish the kitchen cabinet installation. Marilyn is cautiously optimistic that they will actually complete the job tomorrow. I remain skeptical (I feel like Pope Leo talking to Michelangelo..."When will you make an end?"), but it might just be that I'm still a little cranky from being ill.

Whatever the outcome, I'm looking forward to having it done.

Keep the faith.