Spring is definitely on it's way. I see it in the occasional blue sky and gentle rain and in the yellow and purple crocus that are sticking their little heads through the cold soil. It lifts my heart and brings renewed hope that some of the darkness in the world will soon turn to more laughter, light, love of our fellowmen, women and children and especially our God.
January and February in the top of the Rocky Mountains brought far less moisture than usual this year, except for the days I needed to be on the ever under-construction freeway. The blizzards would descend with a furry upon demarcation lines in the road's surface that were always changing. And in my rather outdated opinion--since I am no longer exactly young--inattentive and careless driver's were taking too many needless chances that endangered lives and often caused major damage for their fellow travelers.
I hated leaving my home and took great comfort in knowing that I had a few weeks to finish winter projects. But the beginning of 2025 was far from stress free or enjoyable. January began with my yearly UTI that took me to my friendly Insta care facility where I found that the doctor I had almost enjoyed seeing was no longer there. He had been lighthearted, straight forward and knowledgable. The one I saw this time seemed even older than me, and his bedside manner left something to be desired. But I got the antibiotic I needed and was grateful just knowing I would be feeling better within twenty-four hours.
But that relief didn't last long because on February 8, a friend--whose big Husky dog I had foolishly let come into my home so we could visit while she was taking him on his morning walk--started scratching more furiously than usual. Now I am horribly allergic to both dogs and cats so I knew I was taking a risk, but my friend and I had spent most of January reading and discussing self-help books in hopes of being better able to view some of our childhood trauma more clearly and learning how to put some of it to rest and so we could get on with living.
To make a long story less cumbersome, I got a piece of his hair in my right eye. Two days later the entire eyelid was bright red and very swollen. So I went back to Insta care to see if the hair had gotten lodged under my eyelid because it hurt something awful. The same doctor was there and after I explained what happened, he said it looked like I now had a horrible infection. He gave me a different oral antibiotic, along with an antibiotic eye drop and another eye drop to help the swelling go down. I walked away from the pharmacy feeling rather dejected after spending $130 that had not been part of my budget.
My eye started to look somewhat better, but two days after the prescription ran out it started to swell up again. But this time there was a big, red lump growing on the surface of my eyelid and my vision was blurry. It wasn't a stye because I'd had one of those before, so I went back to Insta care. This time I got a young, female doctor who, when I showed her the pictures I had been keeping of my eye on my phone, said it was an allergic reaction. She felt confident that a course of steroids would fix me right up.
I wish that had been true. But the minute I was through with the steroids the swelling and discoloration came right back. I was getting nowhere fast seeing regular doctors, so I tried to make an appointment with the one who took care of my eye. But they're very busy people, and the earliest he could see me was three weeks out. By this time I had been dealing with this ugly ordeal for a month and was tired of looking like a freak and having people stare at me whenever I had to be out in public. So I reached out to another friend whom I thought might be able to help.
While I was waiting for a return text, I went to get my allergy shots and told the nurse what I had been going through. She took one look at my eye and said she wanted the allergy doctor to look at it before giving me any injections. He did, but he just gave me a prescription for another antibiotic and told me to call him on Monday if it wasn't doing any better.
I was at my wit's end by the time I talked to my friend later that day. I had now seen three doctors--each with a different diagnosis and another round of pills. I knew all that medication was not good for me, but I did not want to lose my eyesight or continue looking like some pitiful creature from some horror movie. It was both upsetting and embarrassing because, even at seventy-six, I want to look my best around other people.
When my friend told me there was an eyelid specialist thirty minutes away, I was both hopeful and amazed because I had never heard of such a thing before. But I took the number and gave them a call. Heavenly Father was really looking out for me because the receptionist said they'd just had a cancellation for the next Tuesday at 7:40 in the morning. I would have been there if it had been in the middle of the night. All I wanted was to look somewhat normal again.
The next few days I scoured the Internet, and before I even went to the appointment with the specialist I knew what was wrong. Fortunately, I had thrown the last round of antibiotics away after three tablets because I was starting to feel like my heart was going to explode. It might have just been my nerves. But as my system began to clear, my body's natural ability to heal was able to kick in and a huge white pocket was forming over the ugly--and now very hard--red lump.
The eyelid specialist confirmed my suspicion about a condition called Chalasia where an oil gland gets clogged and can't drain. He said it may have started with the dog hair, but it could just as easily been a coincidence. I don't really believe in coincidences, especially because of the timing, but by making a small incision, he was able to drain some of the fluid. He wasn't able to get as much of the core as hoped, so for the last ten days I've been putting hot rice packs on my eye 4 times a day, for twenty minutes and using a special ointment morning and night.
It seems like that takes most of my day, but I will go back next week to see if surgery is required, or if I will be performing the same daily routine for the next six months to a year. That's how long this condition can take to reverse without intervention. I'm not sure which prognosis sounds best right now. Neither is ideal. But life goes on and new challenges occur on a daily basis.
Right now, I am waiting for my son's phone call as to where things now stand after bringing charges against my ex-husband for molesting my granddaughter and three other young girls from his wife's family. That's all we can verify right now, but this needy, nutty woman is standing by him and has willingly turned against all of her children, grandchildren and siblings to do it. I will never understand how anyone who has been a mother can do that, but then I'm surprised most every day by the evilness in our world today.
Anyway, my son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter are meeting with the district attorney, their lawyer and a young woman who went through a similar horrendous experience with a family member to learn what to expect during the preliminary trial on April 3. I'm extremely anxious about what will happen in front of that judge, and pray continually that my ex will take responsibility for his actions and accept the plea deal so no one will have to testify. But like my son, I'm not so sure his pride will allow him to. The success of his life has always been measured by others perception of him, and I doubt that will change now. He'll go down fighting or not at all.
But I take comfort in knowing that God lives, he is the only true judge, and he does answer prayers--even if we don't always recognize them.
While it goes without saying that writing blogs has been hard for me lately, it's not just because my health issues have kept me distracted and in a less than positive mood. My mind has been swirling in a hundred different directions almost daily because I am determined to keep my single New Year's resolution. I have been feverishly working on my life history since it's the one thing only I can do. Every other role I play can be filled by someone else if I am not around.
I want my posterity, along with the rest of my family and friends, to better understand the experiences that have made me who I am, and the source I have always turned to for strength and help during my darkest hours. Each of us have a unique story that only we can tell, and I am so grateful Heavenly Father is helping me write mine now. I feel his guidance so often as I try to put into words what is in my heart without casting blame on others who have their own struggles to deal with.
I'll end by saying that it's been a good day. The sun finally came out and I was able to visit an elderly friend who is experiencing acute back pain and take her some home-baked goodies. I do believe in angels. They surround us daily, and I want to be that angel for someone else. It might take some of my time when I could be doing something else, but I always feel so much lighter inside after rendering even the smallest act of kindness. What a privilege it is to serve others and know that I am trying to follow in my Savior's footsteps.