Merry Eve of Christmas Eve and Christmas! (FAMILY PICS)

This is my last post before Christmas, so I wanted to wish you all a joyous celebration, whatever you’ve got going on!

I’m coming at you with a few family pics. News-wise, there’s nothing much to report. The main point of interest this week was that my glasses with my NEW progressive lenses came in… and lo, THEY WORK! I can see everything everywhere! FEAR ME.

Seriously, though, my first try at progressives didn’t go well, as you may recall. I thought it was me, but it turned out that the prescription was wrong and the lenses were poorly made.

Now I have the right prescription on well-made lenses installed in my accidental frames (lab’s mistake they let me keep at no extra cost), and I’m having no problem seeing with them. I love the convenience they offer! I’m so glad I gave progressives a second shot. As usual, I’ll wear the glasses for writing, driving, and looking at far-away screens… I don’t need them for just walking around (unless I’m grocery shopping, when it’s good to be able to read ingredients lists without the constant on-and-off of reading glasses), but I’m wearing them a lot right now for the purpose of “training my brain” to see in them, or some such.

Onward! Happy holidays from us to you. Oh, we put up a tree this year because Callaghan’s sister and her two kids are coming for Christmas and New Year’s. The tree is for them, despite what Nenette thinks.

 

Nenette taking a break from chewing on ornaments and pawing at presents.

Nenette taking a break from chewing on ornaments and pawing at presents.

 

Cita on her windowsill, taking a break from laughing at the neighbor cats who can't get to her anymore.

Cita on her windowsill, taking a break from laughing at the neighbor cats who can’t get to her anymore.

 

Nenette thinking she's hiding under the tree.

Nenette thinking she’s hiding under the tree.

 

Cita snuggling with her favorite mousie.

Cita snuggling with her favorite mousie.

 

Then there’s Callaghan and me.

 

Callaghan handily taking care of the See's scotchmallow situation.

Callaghan handily taking care of the See’s scotchmallow situation.

 

"You wouldn't hit a guy with glasses, would you?"

“You wouldn’t hit a guy with glasses, would you?”

 

Then some selfies with the girls. I did that annoying Mom thing and woke them up to take pics.

 

Selfie with Nenette! She wasn't amused to be woken up for this.

Selfie with Nenette! She wasn’t amused to be woken up for this.

 

Selfie with Cita! She was resigned. She's used to us waking her up.

Selfie with Cita! She was resigned. She’s used to us waking her up.

 

Later that day (last night, actually), we thought we’d take some festive holiday pics of ourselves.

 

Frown.

Frown.

 

Derp.

Derp.

 

General goofing around.

General goofing around.

 

Merry Christmas!!

Sjögren’s syndrome and target training (Garage gym post!)

This is a garage gym post, but first I have to tell the backstory of my eyes/vision, since they’re the impetus for this workout.

I returned to my former eye doctor, the one I saw regularly for years. Thanks to him, I now have glasses with the correct prescription. I got single-lens glasses, mainly for driving and watching movies; progressive lenses were overkill since I don’t need to wear glasses all the time.

The disappointing part of the exam was when he told me that my Sjögren’s syndrome is not in remission, as I’d thought it was. I’d stopped seeing my rheumatologist and taking my meds in 2010, and I’ve been feeling better by my own standards, so this came as a surprise. But this eye doctor is the one who’d managed my case insofar as my eye health, so he’s the man where this is concerned.

I’m not going back to my rheumatologist at this time, because I do feel good compared to how I felt before; I’m just following Dr. C’s orders, which are “Prescription use of lubricating eye drops several times a day and before sleeping and after waking up.” (I already do the latter. I can’t keep my eyes open or see anything until I put in the drops. “There you go,” said Dr. C when I told him that. “You still have Sjögren’s. It’s just not as bad now as it used to be.”)

Dr. C’s whole point is that now I have permanent cornea damage because of the Sjögren’s. Turns out that the distortion in my vision is mostly the reason my last prescription seemed so off (though it was indeed slightly off). Dr. C explained that my vision will always be distorted, even with the correct lens prescription. Glasses can help with blurred vision, but not distortion.

The distortion isn’t severe at all, but it’s enough to mean that a). My night vision will always suck, i.e. when driving at night, I’m wont to turn into driveways that aren’t there, b). My depth perception will always suck, i.e. in hand-to-hand combat situations, I’m wont to miss my target and have trouble finding my distance, and c). At the firing range, I’ll have to learn to operate as a cross-dominant shooter (I’m right-handed, but I’ll have to use my left eye as my dominant eye, which it’s not.)

The only point of the above that really matters is the first one, because, you know, it’s useful to be able to drive at night and see what’s where. What’s most disappointing to me is the second point. The distortion in my vision makes it tricky to gauge where I am and where to strike in combat situations, something I’d already noticed in training, but I’d disregarded as “I’m rusty.”

ALL OF THIS TO SAY that I’ve now taped targets onto the punching bag so I can practice for accuracy. I need to train to compensate for my handicap. And that brings me to today’s garage gym workout post.

(The ideal course of action would be to get some target mitts and have someone hold them for me, but I don’t know who I’d ask for that assistance, so tape on the bag, it is.)

I used masking tape to create X targets in three columns around the bag at low, mid, and high levels. I threw combinations and single shots for power and speed, but mainly for accuracy.

 

Let's get into it!

Let’s get into it!

 

Uppercut

Uppercut

 

Spinning back fist

Spinning back fist

 

I had difficulty hitting the targets with my spinning back fists, so I need to work on those a lot more.

 

(Stalking the bag)

(Stalking the bag)

 

Superman punch on the high target

Superman punch on the high target

 

Jab

Jab

 

(Going for angles)

(Going for angles)

 

Backfist transition

Backfist transition

 

Walking back.

Walking back.

 

Anyway, Sjögren’s syndrome is a mere nuisance at this point. I really thought I was done with that crap, but other than my eyes being uncomfortable and red most of the time, I feel just fine. The vision distortion thing is the most annoying aspect in the practical sense, but I’m not complaining. Things used to be a whole lot worse. I’m not going to the rheumy to get put back on Plaquenil, Salagen, and Tramadol. I’m just over here training for accuracy with targets on the punching bag… and spending more money than usual on lubricating eye drops.

BIFOCALS??!!!

Callaghan and I went to the optometrist on Saturday, about a year overdue for eye exams. On my part, I’d been procrastinating because I knew I could no longer get away without hearing the word “bifocals.” Because in the last year and a half, my reliance on reading glasses ruined it for my distance glasses. My distance vision is now better without my current prescription, and that shocking realization finally landed me in the optometrist’s chair of bifocal doom.

My exam was uneventful. Callaghan was in the room, as I’d been in the room for his exam, and the optometrist joyfully shared her findings with him as she scrutinized my eyeballs.

“Look! She has a scar on this iris, an old one, probably from a chemical burn,” she said to him, thus divulging my unfortunate run-in with some caustic liquid in the Army motor pool of my first permanent party post in Germany back in 1988. I don’t remember what the liquid was. I just remember being rushed to the infirmary to get my eye rinsed out.

Callaghan stepped over to view my chemical burn eye scar through the microscope thing eye optometrists use to peer into your soul plus all of your past lives.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “It looks like a slug.”

Great. My husband saw a slug permanently etched onto my eyeball. Is nothing sacred? Thanks, optometrist lady.

But really, we loved her. She was awesome and hilarious, though she did, indeed, say “bifocals” to me. To us. Callaghan needs them, too! Haha!

Then we had the whole discussion about our options.

Bifocals are visible glasses within glasses. “Bifocals” is a euphemism for THE WEARER IS OLD.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a wuss about aging. I have nothing against being old enough to need bifocals. That word, though. Bifocals.

We also had an option to get “progressives,” which is a euphemism for THE WEARER IS OLD AND IN DENIAL. It’s where the eyeglass lens is invisibly sectioned off, with each section differing according to where you look. Multiple prescriptions can merge to create one-stop-shopping lenses that look like regular glasses.

The optometrist explained that with progressives, you get vision correction for distance, mid-range, and near. So does that make them trifocals, then? (Let’s not answer that.)

I’d mostly heard about progressives from people whose attempts to wear them met with failure. The glasses caused a headache, the glasses made them dizzy, and the glasses never behaved according to their programming. The wearer basically couldn’t see and felt crappy because of them. So the wearer gives up and either settles on bifocals, or uses two different pairs of glasses, as we’ve been doing.

Granted, I probably know many people who wear progressives successfully. I just never hear about those, thanks to the human tendency to enjoy telling negative stories more than positive ones. It’s hard to get something sensational out of good news.

“MAN WHOSE PROGRESSIVE EYEGLASSES CAUSE DIZZINESS STUMBLES INTO MOUNTAIN LION LAIR, GETS EATEN”

Has a more enticing ring to it than:

“MAN WEARS PROGRESSIVE EYEGLASSES AND THEY WORK WELL, NOTHING BAD HAPPENS”

Our progressive glasses are on order, and we should be receiving them within two weeks. My beloved reading glasses are about to get much less use.

 

Reading glasses

Reading glasses

 

Now read this post again while listening to Queen’s “Bicycle Race.” When Freddie sings, “I want to ride my bicycle/I want to ride my bike,” hear it as “I want to wear my bifocals/I want to have six eyes.”