chasophonic

Bonnie’s visit to her retina doctor last week yielded mostly good news.

Near the end of May, Bonnie had her second SHOT IN THE EYE with the new treatment (Eyelea). She had newly developed a loss of some color vision in her affected eye. She went in a couple of times in June to see if they could puzzle out the cause of this. They didn’t. But the retina scans were normal.

When she went in last week for what was expected (by her doctor) to be the third treatment. The imaging again showed normal retinal morphology. No SHOT IN THE EYE needed. Bonnie said, “So you’ve cured me.” Dr answered, “Well yeah. Come back in three months unless you notice a change.”

The retina is damaged, and her vision is still impaired. She may or may not recover some of that over time. The cause has abated.

In May she also saw the Glaucoma Dr. again (back from maternity leave). Bonnie had been using three different drops at their maximum frequency and the pressures hadn’t improved much. She scheduled Bonnie for surgery to insert a shunt in her other eye in August.

Another thing that showed up in those June visits was that her pressures were down to almost the target levels. Still there last week. Result: Surgery cancelled, see Glaucoma Dr. in two or three months.

Bonnie is much relieved.

The past couple of months have been pretty bleak. Bonnie began February with a SHOT IN THE EYE. The previous injections have given some improvement for several weeks which then faded. This latest one gave barely any benefit and her vision declined to the worst it has been.

Last week she went in for the next session of testing and treatment (SHOT IN THE EYE). The Doctor actually said there is some bad news and some good news. The bad being that this is hard to treat. The good news that there was a new treatment available now and another likely to be approved in a year to a year and a half.

Since she had met the threshold requirement of her treatment failing three times, they could seek approval for the new treatment She went in yesterday morning for that SHOT IN THE EYE. Again, any improvement wouldn’t likely be observed for a few days. We weren’t out of the clinic before she suddenly started seeing two large black floaters in her field of vision. We headed right back in to the Doctor. Turns out these were air bubbles from the injection and were told that they should fad in a day or two. Bonnie said it made everything look like it had Mickey Mouse ears.

They were gone by late afternoon. But also, her vision was noticeably better. Better still today! She is feeling better that she has for some time. Optimistic. I have been doing what I could to keep her spirits up, but with this I have a cheerful Bonnie back. I’ve been missing her.

Today Bonnie had an appointment with the retina doctor where she expected to have another SHOT IN THE EYE with another to come in nine weeks. The cross-sectional imaging of her retina showed the anatomy has retuned to nearly normal. So, she was given the option of proceeding with the preemptive SHOT IN THE EYE or to come in frequently to monitor her retina. She opted for NO SHOT! and will be seen again in two weeks.

This hasn’t manifested so much in her vision though. She notices some improvement only to have it fall back some days later. The overall trend is improvement, but slow. Vision is still very poor. There is no way to know how much of her vision will return, but the slight improvement gives hope. As does the vast improvement in the gross anatomy of the retina.

Eight weeks in. Eight weeks of shelter at home. Eight weeks since the world changed. I’ve wanted all through this to write some kind of, “How we are doing post.” In my head they seem to get too long, but here goes.

Day to day it would seem things haven’t changed much for us. We would routinely go out for breakfast on Thursdays. Then on to cruising thrift stores the rest of the morning. There was a jam I would go to most every Tuesday evening and another once a month one. I miss these a lot. But what has really been driven home is the freedom of options. “Let’s go out for dinner.” “We should run to the store to pick up a few things.” The dinners, games, and music we aren’t sharing with friends and family. These lack of options are taking their toll.

In many ways we are lucky. I’m sheltered with the person I chose over 50 years ago to spend as much time with as I could. Our retirement income is stable. We can ride this out. I can’t imagine this happening in the times when we had children at home and were making the hard choices of which bills didn’t get paid this month. I can’t imagine being stuck at home alone without my best friend.

We get out to walk the dog, enjoying the onset of spring. (This would be much harder in winter.) We work on all of the projects, but in little bites so we aren’t overwhelmed by them. We play some games. Watch some TV in the evening (no binge watching- never understood that). Build Lego sets together. Bonnie crafts. I play music. (Have learned a dozen new songs so far.) And miss our friends.

We may get on to the things that having the time would seem to allow us to do. I was reminded the other day that it has been 14 years since I’ve done any songwriting. I tend to treat things like that in reward paradigm. I can do that when I get this done. Keeps shifting to the next thing.

Well there we are. I’ll stop now. I did try to keep it short. Take care everybody.

My friend Tim Olson died yesterday. I've thought about what to say about it and one word seems to sum it up. Sadness. His life really ended the day before when he fell from a ladder and suffered a traumatic brain injury. He never regained consciousness.

I met Tim years ago at a jam in NE Minneapolis. He inivited me to a "plugged-in" jam he was hosting later that day. It was great. Over the years whenever he would ask me to one of his jams I would haul myself out to Hugo and join the six or so other musicians he had invited. A different kind of jam than most I attend. Always worth the trip.

Tim taught me a lesson in friendship he never knew. It was a lesson visited on me before, but renewed by him. I knew there were things away from the music about which Tim and I had polar opposite views. Some of them troubled me. But they never came up or got in the way of the music or our friendship.

Be it guitar, mandolin, or harmonica, Tim could be counted on to add something worthwhile to the musical conversation that is a jam. He was one of my favorite people to play with. I will miss him greatly.

Be careful out there.

My father was born 117 years ago today.

For a number of reasons I have been in a reflective mood lately. Not long ago a friend posted a bit about mortality. How we can only really know our own time. Our own life. There are historical figures and accounts of life in other times, but they often leave me wondering what day to day life was like. I don't think I can ever fathom the world that my father was born into. I can know facts about it, but I don't think I can ever wear the reality of it.

I'm in danger of get side tracked here. I can, want to, and maybe will say a lot more about this. But this post is to celebrate my father. The point being that the way we live on is in the memory of others. He died when I was 18. Not a lot of years to remember. I do remember his laughter. I remember his anger. I remember his love of cats. His walk.

Mostly I remember his music. Some of it lives in me. Today I tuned up Papa's fiddle and played Nikolina for a while. It made me smile.

I have avoided answering most everyone since my heart surgery. Bonnie said that is so unlike me and rude. I realized at the end of my cardiac rehab that this may be a manifestation of denial. Denial is something I denied experiencing post-op even though they say it is to be expected.

So I owe many of you an apology. I appreciate my friends and will do better by you all.

Bonnie is back on her feet. The 8 week x-ray shows lots of healing. Not done yet, but she can put weight on the broken foot and walk around in supportive shoes. There is an admonition to not over do it. We shall see.

I’ve been home a week now. At the moment I am tired. Just walked around the block again. This time solo. It is icy, but I do just fine. I should do this a few times a day and then start adding distance. I was reluctant to do this on my own the first few times, but it has gone well. As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I never thought walking around the block would give me bragging rights.

I’ve tried playing guitar a few times. At first this was very exhausting, but it is getting better. Still can’t play for long. Singing is another matter. My voice is still wrong. Sounds like the lower frequencies have been filtered out. I still have some of the hoarseness form the breathing tube. The main problem is wind. I’m just not pushing enough air. I can barely get through a song. This should get better.

There was a lot of violence done to my body as part of this surgery. I have numerous incisions from the many tubes and openings put into me. The most significant for recovery and pain is where they split open my chest. The ribcage facilitates breathing and protects the contents of the chest. This surgery has weakened this and made it quite vulnerable. I can’t drive because of the remote possibility that an air bag could be triggered. That could be a fatal blow to me right now. I can’t lift more than ten pounds. Not because of the strain on my heart, but because of the strain across the healing sternum. Which, until it grows back together, is just wired closed.

My heart itself is strong and in good shape. It was the coronary arteries that were not. This has been fixed.

Wanted to post something about how I am doing. I will follow up with one on what happened. But not just now. I’m kind of tired and concentration is an issue. I think this is rambling enough. Good moments, bad moments, but overall I’m getting better and stronger day by day. Thanks for all of the well wishes, visits and help. Becca and Guin in particular have gone above and beyond. Graham and my sons, Jason and Daniel have pitched in to put my mind at rest regarding many of household tasks I just couldn’t get done right now when they need to be done. And of course Bonnie. Where would I be with out my Honey. It has been comforting and heartwarming to have so many friends rally around me. Thank you all.