A day that will live in famy

[sam]

Therese was diagnosed with normal-tension glaucoma several years ago, and recently informed that she would in all likelihood have to undergo a trabeculectomy, which is a fancy word for cutting a hole in your eye.



This was because the drops which usually succeed in controlling pressure, weren’t. The good news is she has just learned that her numbers have improved significantly. She’s a 10!



This will have to be double-checked in the spring, along with regular visual fields tests to ensure blind spots aren’t sneaking in


but it’s still news worth buying a round for the house

[sam]

The escape from the blade was not to last. Her visual fields took a hit, as the numbers headed north. Last month she went into Moorfields Eye Hospital with two intact peepers and left looking like a pirate who'd raided the supply room. She was instructed not to bend below the heart or do anything else which raises eyeball pressure, including drink too much water too fast, according to Dr Google; she was afraid to even sneeze heartily.


or be an eyewitness to dangerous cartoon shenanigans

The following weeks were enough to satisfy the cravings of even the most depraved eyedrop fetishist, if any such exist. The assaulted organ must be regularly bathed in antibiotics, and a solution formulated to keep the wound from healing too quickly – note that the new man (actually woman in this case, though she was overseen by the top guy in the field) -made trap-door in the sclera designed to allow for drainage of aqueous humour can prematurely close if the body’s healing process is allowed to operate at the normal speed of repair. In this respect, the older you are the better, as the body takes longer to heal. Therese doesn't qualify as an oldie, even if she is a goodie.

Though we had a scare early on, when her vision suddenly went terribly wonky, everything now appears to be going swimmingly. Unfortunately she'll have to go though this again next year. Binocular vision, innit.

[sam]

Might as well make this the health thread.

I’ve always prided myself on not being dead yet, which doubtless is down to dumb luck. Here I am sporting the latest in NHS 24-hour blood pressure monitorwear, in aid of continuing my increasingly impressive streak of birthdays (considering):


checking whether infamy or famy is the order of the day

Wore it on my ride, when it recorded a high of 177/96, bp 128. It's the diabolic diastolic which is a cause for mild concern, as well as readings uncommensurate with activity levels. I eat pretty well, and don’t fit the typical profile. But I don't currently have much of a clue what I'm talking about. Guess I’ll have to wait to see what a doctor with a last name that's not a search engine has to say about it. In a surprise development, I'm not stressing.

Is it possible my often chaotic sleep patterns have something to do with it?


Stockdoc says "Anything is possible"

Later:
Realdoc said "Don't worry about it." So I won't.

[sam]

Yesterday Therese went to Moorfields to monitor her glaucoma. London is a coronavirus hellscape for us Covid holdouts, which is to say, a lot of coughing and very few masks. Even in the hospital she was sat near a woman hacking away and apparently exempt from sense or sensibility. We'll be holding our breath for 3 days then slowly start exhaling until we get past 5.