Just Call Me Missus Magoo!

I finally got into the eye doctor today. It’s been at least 3-years since I’ve seen one and I’ve been off my eye drops since then. Turns out my glaucoma isn’t as bad as I had thought it was going to be and there’s no damage to my eyes from diabetes yet either. That was a welcome shot of good medical news for me, someone used to getting bad news and all. My prescription has changed a lot — I knew that as I was having a hard time reading a computer screen at work and seeing up close. My new eye doctor is a young female and her last name is Hamer. Which, oddly, was the maiden name of my ex-husband’s grandmother. Just found that amusing for some reason. I just bought my new progressive lens eyeglasses online. I hope they fit right. I am going to try and reuse one of my other frames later on. Just have the prescription lenses switched out. I like the frame. The new frame I just got is pink. 😛

For those of you who don’t know me and maybe reading? I am obsessed with the color pink. It’s my favorite color and things in pink just make me happier. Yeah, so there’s that.

Yesterday was supposed to be my iron transfusion and they couldn’t do it at the dialysis clinic because of my shitty veins. They got the needle in and started it but I have no idea WTF happened except it felt like they were shooting hot lava into me and I just couldn’t take it and made them stop. So back to the IV infusion clinic for that. I am kind of glad anyway, even if it is not my choice of hospital it is a lot closer to where I live than the dialysis clinic is,

Sometimes I feel as if I woke up old. Like, I can’t really explain it other than that. Like a couple of weeks ago I just realized how much my body has changed and I am having a hard time seeing myself now. All droopy and wrinkling … tubes running out of me. Dialysis changes a body and it changes it quickly. I’ve lost quite a bit of weight over the course of just a few months too. I just didn’t know old age was going to be like this for me. Sick, mostly alone, and worried about my dogs and cats more than I am myself. These tubes running out of me freak me the fuck out still. I just don’t like looking at it or touching it or acknowledging it but it’s there and it needs and demands acknowledgment and caretaking. Fucking thing, I decided to tell others I now have a penis. I have named it “Pat” as I pretend to be okay and joke about it. Secretly I fucking hate it and want to rip it out of my body but I know that if I do I will die.

Meh, this entry is getting depressing. Think I will end it here so I don’t delve too deeply into the abyss today. There are plenty of more entries like that likely to be coming up later.