I got some good news today.  Some really, really, really good news.  I haven’t been able to get a damn thing done, because every time I think about it, I get up and start dancing.  Today, I do not have glaucoma.  That sounds ridiculous, I know, but it’s my truth, and I want to hug it.  I have a long eye history that dates back to my 15th year of life when I lost my vision and got it back again.  In the 25 years that have followed, my life has sometimes felt like one, long, eye doctor appointment.  Last year, the news came hard: I’d had ischemia (lack of blood flow) in my left eye, the pressures had doubled, and it’s time to prepare myself for the reality that glaucoma is setting in.

Luckily, I’ve been with the same eye team since my 15th birthday, and well, let’s just say they’re used to me by now.

Last year:

Me: I can’t have ischemia.  I haven’t had any changes in my vision.

Dr.: It’s not within your visual field.

Me: WELL NOW, that hardly counts.  That’s not really ischemia.  That’s more of a blip.

Dr. Is this like the time you told me you had a little bit of melanoma?

Me: I did!  And it’s gone, and I’m in remission.  Score 1 for Lori. How do I make this go away?

Dr.: Short leash Lori.  You’re on a short leash.  Your retina looks great, your corneas look amazing, as always, and your vision is unchanged.  We’ll watch it, but if those pressures don’t go down or if that white spot increases, it’s time to talk.

Me: Just let me get the girls in school full day, I’ll get back to the gym…it’s going to be fine.

Dr. : You know this has nothing to do with stress, right?

Me: This has EVERYTHING to do with stress!  You’ll see.

Today:

Dr.: Hey Alicia, you’ve never been Lori’s eye tech before.  Test her left eye first.  She cheats.

Alicia: How can you CHEAT a machine?

Dr.: She memorizes the pentameter of the machines and she has every eye chart in the office memorized.  She cheats.

Alicia: Do you cheat?

Me: Of course I cheat!  I learned to beat these tests before I learned to drive. Hey Doc!  Stop knowing me so well. The only things I can’t fool are the pressure readings and the Optomap, so let’s get moving Alicia.  Because today, I’m in it to win it.

After Testing:

AND, as it turns out, I cut those pressure scores in HALF!  HALF!  Let me say that again…HALFFFFFFF!!!!  I never thought I’d see the other side of 20 again, let alone 12. TWELVE.  My eye pressures are 12 (insert singing and dancing). That is so not glaucoma, I can’t even see the glaucoma ball park.  And the tiny, meaningless spot of ischemia?  Unchanged.  Of course how would I know?  I can’t see it!  Dumb advanced medical equipment.

I encourage you to read Norton Hadler’s, “The Last Well Person: How To Stay Well Despite The Healthcare System”.  That book taught me I am more than a list of diagnosis codes.  And more importantly, the death rate is one per person.  You get what you get, you do the best with what you have, and partake of medical care prudently, and with an open mind.  But in the end, don’t get too wrapped up in your illnesses, because we’re all going to die of something.  Get over it.

Greg and I went to lunch to celebrate, and he asked, “So I guess all those Juice Plus vitamins worked?”  Well that, and more sleep, therapy, going back to the gym, Vitamin D, fish oil, and heck, maybe even Glucosamine.  Who is to say?  But in the end, I was reminded of the one thing I’ve told anyone who has been diagnosed with something serious and who asks me if the most important thing is a good sense of humor?  A good pairing of traditional and conventional medicine?  A Priest?  Those things are important, yes.  But they are not the most important thing. After beating a few “things” that have tried to define me, I’ve come to the conclusion there is only ONE, numero uno priority when you find yourself facing a scary illness:

BE HARD TO KILL.

Wisdom Comes Suddenly.