Inconceivable

Since my vision prohibits me from driving, getting transportation to appointments can be a challenge as I wrote about in the post Hair Traffic Control. I have several friends who so generously and lovingly offer their driving skills and I have learned to accept with what I hope is graciousness and great appreciation. Yesterday morning, however, scheduling rides for an upcoming event was difficult and stressful. I am happy to tell you that I was able to work it out but there was a delayed reaction to the pressure that I did not expect. 

My husband and I were eating dinner last night and all of a sudden, I felt tears coming on. As I sat there crying and trying to stop, I apologized to my poor spouse and he asked what was wrong. I thought about it and realized I didn't know, and immediately began to triage any emotion I could grab on to.

I wasn't sad, I wasn't mad, I wasn't longing for  my mom more than the constant ache in my heart. I did, however, keep returning to the happenings of the morning, trying to find a way to my appointment. As soon as I recognized that this was the prevailing thought, I said to my husband, who was just trying to enjoy his meal after grilling chicken in the rain, "It is inconceivable that this is my life. But how can it be inconceivable when this has been my life for three plus years? I am living this life so how can I still be in disbelief over it?"

I cried a little more and then we finished our dinner. There was, of course, no answer for these questions but that didn't stop me from still thinking about it 20 hours later. I am aware, every day, every hour, every minute, that I am severely visually challenged. And yet, it still can shock me that I now must live my life without my full sight. My repeating question during this journey hasn't been Why me? but How did I get here?

We all play the hand we are dealt but sometimes I "look" at the cards and simply cannot believe the fact that they are mine. Most of the time I play them with no emotion but sometimes with a profound sense of incredulity. Forget poker, rummy, pinochle and blackjack, this game is called Inconceivable.

Look Hoot's An Early Bird Now, Mom

A lot of things go haywire with our bodies as we age and I get that. Parts wear out after years and years of use and let's be honest: abuse. We don't like it but we can understand it. What is perplexing to me is how a staunch night owl suddenly becomes an early bird in the middle of their life.

I watched my mom seem to require less and less sleep as she got into her 70s but her lifelong early rising never wavered. It was a real bone of contention when we traveled together as I liked to go to bed late and sleep in. Or when I would pick her up at an early hour for a road trip and she wanted to chat the whole way while I preferred to listen it the radio and drink my coffee in silence. It always amazed me that after years of watching me start my homework late at night not because I was a procrastinator but because I did my best then and was also the person who had to battle to get me off to school every morning seemed to be consistently surprised by my behavior.

Now, however, if she was still alive, she wouldn't recognize me in the mornings. I am awake early and once I am there is no rolling over and going back to sleep. I like to imagine sometimes that she and I are on vacation together and I would wake up and get dressed and ready for the day and be the one waiting for her for a change.

Again, I don't know how this happened but it did. It seemed to coincide with my vision loss but because I have some perception of light my doctors don't believe that is the cause. Could it be a psychological issue as a result of all that has happened? I am sure that's a possibility. Is it my age? It could but I don't remember this happening to anyone I know at my stage of life. But I'd like to think it's my mom's doing. Even though she's no longer here with me, we can still have some quiet time in the mornings, when the husband and the parrot are still sleeping (yes, I am the earliest bird in this nest). I can make a cup of coffee and think about her, our many breakfasts together and even those rocky early rides in the car.

No matter what the cause of my new sleep habits it has had an effect on my marriage. My husband likes to sleep in on his days off, so I am stuck waiting for him to get up on the weekends. And whether or not she has had anything to do with my new early to bed, early to rise pattern, she is no doubt enjoying me dealing with my night owl husband. I never had a teenage daughter, but payback comes in many forms.

Piper The Conure And The Blustery Night

Last night I slept on the love seat to be with Piper if the strong, constant wind, which still hasn't let up the following afternoon, frightened him. My little guy did fine, he is tough after living in at least four different states, as part of another family for four years and a bird rescue for two during his ten years of life. But I wanted to be sure he knew I was there, just in case.

He has provided me comfort and made every day since I woke up blind less scary. How can I do anything but the same for him?

A Letter To The Eggitor

Dear Peeps:

Well, another Easter has come and gone. The eggs have all been found and I have eaten so many carrots even my whiskers have turned orange; it is not a good look. The kids are happy and the parents are exhausted as they are after every holiday. 

Was it me or were you everywhere this year? No offense, but there is only one sher-hop in Easterville and it's me. You can add all the new flavors that you want, get stale (as many people prefer much to my dismay) and maintain that same perceived adorable expression, but I am the face of this holiday.

So get in your fancy Twinkie car and don't let the door hit you in the sugar-coated, marshmallowy flat behind on the way out. Take a nice long vacation: perhaps a sauna in the microwave or a nice jacuzzi in a mug of hot chocolate. I hear both are lovely this time of year. 

As I watch you drive away, I can't help but wonder, have I really seen the last of you? And does Santa have this problem? Snowmen have been making a comeback. 
With rabbit carrotempt, The Easter Bunny 

My Reality

In a year's time I watch about twenty reality shows. They include Southern California housewives, quite a few short people shows, boy band families, cheerleaders and couples who are meeting for the first time at the alter. And while my only shame of them all, I will not apologize: anything and everything to do with the name that rhymes with farmashpeein'.

I can feel your contempt and thought about telling you yours is no greater than the disdain I feel for myself but that would be a lie. I like these shows and have been watching them long enough that I have seen their children grow up and a seemingly ultra-masculine Olympic athlete, father of ten become a woman. There are also lots of house buying shows and people living off the grid and a series about treehouses that cost more than my home. And one cooking show. Ok, so maybe my number is closer to thirty.

I could tell you that I watch these shows because I am currently not working and it kills the time. but truth be told, I watched them all when I was jetting around the country.

I do have a line although I can't tell you what it is other than If it makes me cringe, I'm out. Who knows what attracts us to hobbies or certain books or movies or other people or TV shows? We like what we like and our guilty pleasures are just that. Although I think the guilt part in that term is usually the guilt you feel for not feeling guilty.

As I proofread this post I seriously considered deleting it. This never happens when I'm writing this blog, I put it all out there and don't second-guess sharing the topic du jour (told you I watch a cooking show). So I'm going to push the hesitation aside and hit "Publish". Because the reality is, this little ole blog of mine is my reality show. And I can only hope it's your guilty pleasure.

Sometimes You Just Need A Little Bright And Airy

Seeing What I Couldn't See Before

This morning I had an early doctor visit, not vision related. The doctor asked me about my vision and how I am getting along.

When I got home, I was thinking about the appointment and her question. Suddenly I pictured myself in that doctor's office, totally blind and finding my way out of the exam room and to the receptionist's desk.

And then I had a peculiar, out of the blue thought:

Was some of my vision restored because
I would not have survived total blindness?

No matter your beliefs, we have all heard the adage that we are never given more (in life) than we can handle. I don't know if I could have dealt with permanent, total blindness. Some days I'm not sure I'm handling having minimum sight. And maybe that is why I regained some vision after a few weeks spent in total darkness. I suppose I will never know.

Any accomplishment or progress I make in doing something as a visually challenged person, I measure against being fully sighted and, therefore, I never am comfortable accepting praise or congratulations. I certainly know that when I first got sick I couldn't see a thing, and yet I am always comparing whatever this lauded action is to before, when everything was crisp and clear and light and colorful. Those who are encouraging me on my achievements were also there when my optic nerves were swollen, and they conversely, brace yourself for this twist, can see what I can't: that I have come a long, long way.

I spent 47 years as a fully sighted person and a few weeks in the dark. My benchmark shouldn't be those 47 years, but those weeks I struggled to do everything without any vision. I hope that after imagining myself this morning still without sight, adjusts my personal barometer, and I too recognize there is much to be grateful for. Knowing myself the way that I do, a conscious effort will still have to be made to adjust the yardstick, but now I have a whole new perspective, figuratively and more importantly, literally.