Waiting

I can’t hide the fact that I am blind anymore.
The Charcot foot has stabilized, but the vision has gotten worse. Not enough light is always too dark, too much light is a hazy bright blur, and just the "right" amount of light leave everything backlit and in indiscernible shadows.
The range of vision is one to two feet, depending on lighting, and usually without the ability to discern fingers unless there is a sharp background. I can’t see well enough to recognize people by sight at any distance. I’ve always been good with voices and other cues, and try to stretch those abilities as best as I can.
I adjust as I stare at the computer, but looking away makes everything worse, and stepping away will often leave me unable to refocus on the bright screen. Most often, light hurts. As I physically tire or exert, my vision also diminishes.
Things have gotten worse month by month. So take out the violin...
And crash it into my skull.I say this to be informative to the people who watch me walk like a crippled great-great grandpa and turn to a caller with that blank blind look in my eyes. I’m still doing everything I can, with the acknowledgment that what I can do is lessening almost daily. I can do less and do everything more slowly. I’ve been trying to accept the new, ever increasing limitations and to stop pushing myself.
For lack of choice in my life, I am learning to relax.
I’ve made progress on completing things that have been on hold in the three-plus years since the Cialis-induced blood hemorrhage. I’m looking to complete final things so I can turn over my responsibilities in an orderly and accessible manner. The more I complete, the better relax. The time for waiting in hope that tomorrow or next week or next month may be better is over.
There’s another procedure in January, and there is some hope of improvement after that. Things may be clearer if the worsening situation is the result of the vitreous being dirty.
Until then, I am waiting and deferring many other decisions.
People have noticed by this blog and in person that I am not talking as hopefully as I had been. This isn’t a matter of giving up, but a matter of perspective. I’m all for optimism, but I am more for realism. I’m finding the balance between the two and holding on to each.