One of the major reasons I stopped complaining online about my ailments, depression and other annoyances is because I choose happiness and have done so for awhile. Besides, no one needs to hear about yet another illness or depressive moment. But, after today’s eye doctor appointment I am afraid I need to scream to the rafters!
I have had “issues” with something called Iritis for six months now, just popped up out of nowhere, I mean it feels like sand scratching my eyeballs and there’s inflammation, burning; redness and severe sensitivity to light, all in one setting! I mean, it hurts like a MOFO! I literally wake up in the morning and cannot open my eyes without it burning from light sensitivity and throbbing pain. Sometimes it’s in both eyes, sometimes it’s in one eye. To get this off my 50 pounds of middle-aged boobage I can either pontificate online or run naked into the streets screaming for Jesus like someone stole my purse. Thankfully for all of you out there including small children and animals, I chose the former.
First, it’s times like this I wish I was a standup comedian. Or, better yet, I wish I had my mother to turn to. If I was depressed about anything in particular especially the physiological aspects of aging, I hate it, mom would reply in her straight-forward, often painfully blunt New York sensibility with a big dose of her wickedly funny Doris’isms.
“Well, you can’t be young forever. Yea, aging is awful, your tits are down to your knees, you fart for no apparent reason and your hair falls out. Oh, and don’t have kids, whoo! Your belly grows as big as two full bags of laundry and you get ‘roids. Oh, and don’t talk to me about teeth!!! Whooo, your teeth, let me tell you…!”
By the time I’ve grown a six-pack from laughing so hard I am no longer depressed. Sore, but not depressed. But, I can’t share my “issues” with Doris, 82, who is in her eleventh year of “living” if you can call it that, with Dementia and Parkinson’s disease. So, I am afraid I must complain here.
All right, so why in hell can’t doctors figure out where this Iritis thing comes from? I’m the kind of bitch who likes to know what’s going on with my body. And the name, “I-ri-tis” sounds like a fake-ass illness! It’s like, my eye hurts, so that’s called EYE-ritis! I asked the doctor why did Iritis pop up, why do I have it? He didn’t know. I asked him where did it come from.
“Is it due to overuse of the computer?”
“Is it because I’m in my 50’s?”
“Is it because I have my mother’s bunions?”
“Is it because I have the family ‘five-miles-of-forehead?’” He chuckled then said flatly,
“Is it ‘cause my hair’s nappy?”
The doctor said “no” to everything even to my being black. He told me blacks have a propensity for certain eye problems, but that all my blood tests proved negative.
“So what then, what? What? What? What? What? What? What the f**k caused this ailment, doc?!” I did not curse at him, but I sure as hell wanted to. He could not give me an answer. Said, NO ONE knows where the idiot Iritis ailment comes from or why it happened in the first place. Well, isn’t that great to know.
And then he told me something that almost caused me to slap him upside his smooth bald head with my bag Aunt Esther-style. (Aunt Esther from the 1970s show Sanford and Son for those of you not old enough to remember. And no, I did not hit the man). He said, “You’ll have to keep using the steroid eye drops probably for the rest of your life.” Now, mind you, constant use of steroids in any form is not healthy. By the way, I was also given a shot of steroids in each of my eyeballs, YES a needle to both my eyes a couple of months ago! Yet, nothing seemed to help. Then the doctor dropped the ball again, “by the way the steroid eye drops will cause cataracts.”
“Cataracts. Cataracts? Did you say…Cataracts?”
“There’s no other medicine to help curb your problem, sorry.”
“So, you’ve got me taking something that I might have to take for the rest of my life AND it WILL give me cataracts?!”
“Basically. But, you’re already in your 50s, cataracts are bound to get you anyway. The older you get, the more likely you’ll get cataracts.”
Hmm. Okay, so getting older mentally, as long as your brain is intact, is cool, but physically aging SUCKS SWEATY BALLS! Great, got it! Thanks to whatever deity exits, God’ Allah; Buddha; Bubba; Barbie; etc. Whatever deity created this f**king world you failed in the physical department, pal, whoooo!!! Why didn’t you just leave the physical alone? Why should we get wrinkles, age spots, loose skin; greying thinning hair, stiff joints, separating gums and for women a loose vagina? Or, at least that’s what my OBGYN seems to think.
I have never had children yet because I’m getting older my OBGYN just a few months ago who was at the end of the examining table scrambling all the way up inside my aged cooch doing macramé or baking a chicken whatever the hell she was doing up there, she told me I will have to do Kegel exercises or my vagina would fall out. Well, that’s what I heard her say, I think she said I might pee on myself, but first of all I don’t even know what the f**k a Kegel is! And why would I exercise it to keep from peeing, I never pee on myself! I now understand why older folks don’t like going to the doctor. You never hear good news! They’re always saying negative shit WILL happen to you!
Well, at any rate, I feel a little better now that it’s all off my chest. I guess what had me upset beside the “unknown,” was that I have had all the pertinent female tests and examinations with in the last three years and I just got my teeth cleaned and so far I am in exemplary health. And then my eyes started acting up. Maybe I seek perfection where there isn’t any, but I mean Got-DAM! Cut an unemployed, but happy “mature” sistah a break, would ya, I mean c’mon! Oh well, After my exam I contacted my closest friends to complain and rant, one of them does not use the internet so I had to call. Then I came home, fed my aged cats, treated myself to Vietnamese Basa Fish, rice and a glass (or three) of wine. Now I am about to bathe in Lavender oil and bubbles and spend the rest of the night forgetting about the events of the day. Well, of course I’ll have to sleep with steroid drops and wait for the cataracts to form! But, until that eventful day thanks to all of you who read my post.
PS- I just thought of something. I could equally complain that my boy tabby has a urinary infection where I have to give him half of my Famotidine pills every few days or he vomits. And, my tiny girl Calico Tore has a leaky right eye. And then there’s me and my Iritis. I could complain about THAT, but why bother? That’s what writing and knitting is for, yes? ~sigh~ Hopefully my fingers won’t give out!