February 2, 2023

Daily Diary, Day 884:

Stye in the eye update! So, I used the cream, which stung, and by evening the stinging had gotten much worse (this was listed as a side effect) and the whole lid was red. Now, it could be that this was just the infection getting worse as the day went on, but I decided not to test that possible theory at this point by using the cream again.

I had a fairly good night's sleep, and now after several compresses, the eye lid is about back to where it was yesterday, and definitely less swollen than last night. So, the plan is to not start pills, not use cream, up the compress frequency, and see if the deterioration in comfort happens again as the night progresses.

If so, will definitely start the oral anti-biotic tomorrow. On the other hand if if doesn't get worse, and is appreciably better tomorrow, will hold off at least another day. My hesitation is that every time I've used this RX (or another variation of tetracycline-which is one of the few antibiotics I am not allergic to), eventually it causes a flare up of arthritis or I get tendonitis in my feet. So, if I can avoid, I would prefer to do so.

I found myself wondering why I feel the need to share all this. I tell myself it is part of being honest about aging, although I don't know if I am doing it so very gracefully. I have always found a benefit to sharing, and hearing other people talk about facing similar problems, because it helps me keep perspective. And I tell myself that I hope my sharing helps some of you, and for the rest you can just skim through these bits.

But this morning, as I walked (and I got in 40 mins--yay), I also thought about how much my attitude has been shaped by my mother. She had rheumatic fever at age 8, greatly damaged her heart, and had the first of 3 open heart surgeries to provide artificial valves in 1958, when she was in her late 30s. I know that she spent most of her life in pain (the first surgery was brutal in terms of the damage it did to the rest of her body), constant migraines, and increasing weaknesses before each surgery as her heart valves would start to fail, and her lungs filled up. Yet, she was a complete stoic. She hated to be fussed over, she never complained, and in between bouts of illness she was a dynamo. A definite, "be strong and carry on" attitude towards life. Her last years she was on oxygen, pretty much confined to a wheel chair, fighting for every breath. Her death came in her late sixties, after she fell in a parking lot, dragging her oxygen behind her, so she could go to the beach.

As her child, that stoicism on her part often left me feeling guilty--I'd be the usual self-centered, snotty kid, grumbling about chores, forgetting to turn the oven on as asked, expecting her to drive me to school when I missed the bus, and then I would discover that she had a migraine that day and feel awful.

So, very early on I decided that it wasn't fair to the people close to me to pretend that everything was ok, when it wasn't. As a result, I have always been pretty upfront about telling people when I was in emotional or physical pain. Now, I realize I tend to undercut this with humor, and I can see my mother's model come out, in that once I've shared (ie complained) about, for example my sore stye, or my broken toe, or my frustration when I don't get any words written, I generally feel uncomfortable when people offer their sympathy, and I pretty quickly go into my glass is half-full, let’s turn this into lemonade attitude that is my dominant personality.

Ok, enough introspection.

Another lovely day, and, as I mentioned, this morning I got in a walk, I finished the scene I was working on last evening, and made some notes on the next chapter outline. I have a noon zoom meeting, but no scheduled phone calls yet, so I have hope I will make good progress on the next chapter this afternoon--between soaking my eye! And the birds have definitely found the bird feeder, I think they are house finches and California towhees. I will see if I can get some decent pictures, but don't want to scare them away for now.

On my walk, found this one blossom, all by itself, but another vibrant pink.