For the first time in weeks, I walked into Barnes & Noble, laptop case slung over my shoulder, and headed to the cafe. It’s the only place I feel comfortable going to write these days when claustrophobia overcomes me at home to the point of screaming.
You see, in April, I had a corneal transplant after being diagnosed with Fuchs’ Corneal Dystrophy. (Fuchs’ Corneal Dystrophy: My Story) A few weeks later, my immune system rejected the new cornea and now I’m blind in my right eye – for now.
I’m scheduled for another partial cornea transplant on October 25, and hopefully I will be on the road to recovery. But there’s more to the story.
When I was 15, I had surgery to correct ‘Strabismus’, which in non-medical terms means my right was not aligned properly or ‘in cruel kids terms’ means, “Clarence the Crossed-eye Lion.” Any of you of my age should remember this book and movie.
But, I digress, the Strabismus surgery was a success back 40 something years ago, and my right eye has remained perfectly aligned as long as I wear corrective eyeglasses. But since this other confounded condition I’ve contracted, my poor eye doesn’t know where to look, so it focuses on my nose.
It’s hard to believe that as a woman, now in my 50’s, fairly self-confident most of the time, can still be bothered with the memory of the bully on the bus who picked on my crossed-eye when I was a kid. I guess it never goes away.
I usually post about women seeing the best in themselves at our age and I will again, I promise.
In the midst of my pity-party, I say to myself. Why should I care? I don’t have cancer. I have a loving, caring partner who says he loves me no matter what. I still have one good eye. At this age, I can definitely stand up to any bully who picks on me or anybody else. But, for now I can’t get my self-confidence out of the crapper.
In a few months, I should see clearly again and my poor dysfunctional right eye will gaze in a forward direction like it’s supposed to. And I’ll be writing positive, motivational posts like I used to. In the meantime, my life is in the hands of my ophthalmologist.
Thanks for letting me whine. I’ll be better soon. I’m positive of that.
In the meantime, boomer babes, if you’ve suffered an affliction that’s dumped your self-esteem in the crapper, please share – how do you get past this horrible self-conscious feeling? It will not only help me, but possibly others dealing with this.