Rain, with the leaks in the bedroom, forces me to sleep in the chair; different positions, for about an hour. I then occupied the bed for six hours instead of someone who got two. I’m the one quickly going blind, with that aspect personally attributed to sleep deprivation… and staring at a screen, being only a few meters from the microwave sending-and-receiving smart meter.
The blindness really started at age twenty-one, with only minor effects in my teens — noise on a CRT screen, making out all the two-hundred-fifty-six shades of gray in a gradient during a video editing class. With my introversion, the V.E. part was easy; the socializing part was the only difficulty in the class, trying to teach another student that…eventually wanted out.
Macular degeneration—I don’t know what it is. I failed to show up for the second round of tests some years ago—the cost benefits weighed, iris dilation, forcing me to wear sunglasses, versus having no life but bad things like this, no point of living. My reaction to theirs: why would the optometrists be pissed? They had less work to do!
I see wavy lines, false lines, little blips that come in, move and go out. And the blind spots that suddenly appear and gradually fade, sometimes in big blots; blue blots, sometimes. And the debris and retinal tearing—the flash you would see when you dart your eyes when your eyes are under pressure. When am I not under pressure, with my anxiety disorder? I hold my eyes like a form of anal retentiveness.
One of the eye doctors, of the ones I bailed on, said that the blips are the sight of blood vessels. I know I’m not in good cardiovascular shape, but all over my vision, especially when I look at bright objects? I can’t look at the sky without this pattern! And now I see it anywhere.
The Dependent Independent 