Waiting for Patience

It's been a beautiful weekend here in Atlanta, Ga. I'm currently reclined on my front porch with a glass of sweet, iced tea (dark, none of that weak tea here) watching my Hispanic neighbors play in the cul-de-sac. The Bradford Pears are in full bloom, my dogwood is straining to bud, the camellias at my feet awake with pre-spring blossoms.

The black and white clouds are drifting high overhead as I watch manmade mechanical dragon flies skirt the periphery, punctuated by the 'sound of freedom'. Sunset is near, but the sun is still fading on the trees at the top of our subdivision's hill. The rest of the world in dusk.

Dusk.

That time of day between daylight and night.
A time when your eye doesn't see well. Something about not enough photons for accurate day vision, but too many for your night vision to fully kick in.

We're frustrated by our lack of progress. Her peripheral vision has returned and was documented by our doctor during our last visit. She's lost the ability to focus worth a darn with that eye. She sees double sometimes, gets night halos, gets eye fatigue quickly, causes headaches, and lacks depth perception with one good eye...

I can only imagine the Mrs.' vision as being some sort of dusk.

Our emotions are kind of duskish too. My beloved is never far from being reminded of her frailty. The pain was back in her eye today. It's gone now, she's since slept it off. Nice to be able to close the eye for a hiatus from focal workloads. But other times, she's reminded in other ways. She has a hard time seeing the faces of the kids in her class, gets startled easily when riding in the car, can't locate the dress she wants to wear and probably has difficulty prettying her face. Crowds and their movement drive her nuts. Difficult to sleep some nights too, especially on the steroids.

The nagging guilt that she's broken once again and a medical burden still clings to her.

Feeling like the family buzzkill is no peach either.

The doubt that things are going well because things aren't back to the status quo is growing. Got little reason to believe that we're on the wrong track but we talked about getting a second opinion. Just in case. That's mainly the frustration talking. We want the magic pill.

Coping is difficult. A vicious cycle of mental fatigue, drains your emotional reserves, making you more susceptible to frustration and despair. Which makes managing the front end of that list any easier.

I'm of the opinion that whatever happens, happens. That's not pretty, but I'm not about to fret needlessly over something we've little control over. Especially since the steroid treatment does appear to be the primary method of managing this thing. There are other options, but don't know what the future holds after our follow up appointment in a week or so.

Keep on doing what we've got to do. Just trying to keep our shack and family functioning at minimal levels.

But it was nice to sit on my quiet porch this evening, listening to the mongrels bray in the twilight as the atmosphere chilled. Maybe I'll warm up by the Mrs if she'll put up with me and my now cool toes.