Could Have Been Worse...

In the movies, when something's wrong with you, you go to the doctor. You get some tests done, and then you sit in the doctor's office. He comes in holding a folder with your chart and test results, and gives you a diagnosis. "It's Plot Device Disease #372; you have six months to live."

In the real world, it's almost never like that. Diagnosing illness isn't always black and white--sometimes it's a whole field of fuzzy grey that's nearly impossible to make sense of. Sometimes the doctor tells you you have six months to live, but more often he just tells you to wait and see.

When I saw the retina specialist yesterday, he studied the various scans and photos of my eye and said, "This is probably a result of the viral infection you had a couple weeks ago. There's a group of diseases known as White Dot Syndrome that result from a viral inflammation; not a whole lot is known about them, and there is no treatment. But the good news is that usually it goes away on its own."

"How long are we talking here? Weeks? Months?"

He shrugged. "Weeks to months. And it's possible you could have some permanent minor visual distortion as a result of scarring when it heals."

"So is there anything I can do?"

"Just monitor it. I'll see you again in two months, and if it gets significantly worse, call me and we'll run some more tests."

This is simultaneously just about the best news I could have heard, and the most frustrating. "It's probably not permanent, but you'll just have to wait and see." And there's still the possibility that it's something completely different, but the only way to find to wait and see. In several weeks, the blind spots might grow, or shrink, or stay the same...and none of that necessarily means anything, nor is there necessarily anything that can be done even if we know for sure what it is.

I am, at least, no longer panicking. I'm still worried, yes, but there is a certain calm that comes from knowing I've done all I can for now. I even got some programming done last night, which is a sure sign I've calmed down and gotten my focus back. Of course, after two weeks of barely touching it, I kinda felt like this:

blog comments powered by Disqus