Yesterday was an extremely difficult day for me. It usually always is, every year but for some reason, this year hit me harder than most. Maybe it’s because of all the bullshit happening in the world worth no clear sign of any of it ever ending. Who knows? While critically buried in my own grief, yesterday’s post failed to bring up a key event: It was once again time for my eye injections.
By the time that I had posted yesterday, I was well on my way to packing a bag for the two and half hour drive to Saskatoon, where I would book into my usual hotel and go get flaming hot needles jabbed directly into my eyeballs. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit… they’re not ACTUALLY flaming or hot. It usually just feels like they are. I make a big deal out of getting these injections but as Diabetic complications go, they’re not the worst. They just seem like the worst I go through because I maintain a tight control and have no other complications (yet).
My travel to Saskatoon was markedly uneventful, with my thoughts focused on the loss of my brother and the distinct irony that I had some scheduled, physical pain to pile on top of my recurring, yearly emotional pain. That irony was not lost on me as I made my way there and followed my usual routine and made my way to the hospital. The only silver lining is that despite having bumped my injections from seven weeks to eight, my vision was still clear and my eyes were free of fluid or swelling. This is good news, considering that about five or six years ago, I was attending every four weeks.
I spent my evening last night at an Irish pub, drowning my sorrows and attempting to lessen the pain in both my soul and in my eyes. I’ve woken up this morning feeling as though someone rubbed both my eyeballs with sandpaper. But my vision is clear and I have scheduled work meetings from my room before checking out and hitting the road for home. Staying healthy with Type-1 Diabetes is a difficult task. Sometimes the efforts are painful and tedious but I like to think that keeping my sight is important enough to warrant the pain and discomfort.
It was a strange coincidence that the anniversary of my brother’s death landed on the same date as my eye injections. If my doctor and I hadn’t decided to try for eight weeks, I’d have gotten the injections last week. It’s kind of like one of those strange happenings on a calendar, like this year being the only 2-2-22. But enough of my ramblings… It’s time to get on with the day. ☯️
The Blogging Buddhist 