The Smear
(No, I haven't gotten a Pap smear, ya wankers.)
Look. The last thing I want to do is be a My Fascinating Malfunctioning Body bore. That particular sort of self-obsession is all kinds of icky at once.
But enough folks have expressed concern and interest that I want to get a moderately complete and vivid account of what I've been experiencing on the record. It also seems worthwhile to have the resource available for others in similar situations--I certainly spent a fair amount of time reading the accounts of other HCL veterans (both "survivors" and "sufferers" sound just a hair too self-dramatizing for what I've been through so far) when I was first diagonosed. And, really, this is one of the most interesting and unusual things to happen to me in, like...ever. Okay--interesting is in the eye of the beholder. But the point is, I'm trying to strike the balance--enough detail to make it real and accurate, without getting bogged down in excess.
I was in bad shape during the fever. I was on oxygen and gasping for breath; the drugs to control the nausea were making me groggy; I was alternating sweats that would soak through my pajamas and sheets with terrible shivering fits.
At some point on Wednesday or Thursday or Friday, a smear appeared in the exact center of the vision of my left eye. It was shaped like one of those African gourd guitars, with a round body, a few protrusions at the bottom, and a neck extending upward. With my eyes open, it was an opaque spot. with my eyes closed, it glowed like a light-exposure afterimage. So much was going wrong with my body that awareness of the smear came slowly.
On the possibility that it might be from a forgotten exposure--perhaps glancing for too long at the setting sun--I didn't mention it for a day or so after first noticing it. Once I did, my doctors sent an optometrist up to examine me. Gazing into my eyes (literally, with a flashlight), he reported a blood clot in my retina, caused by a combination of the fever and my low platelet count, which allowed a ruptured capillary to bleed longer than it ordinarily would have. I have several more in my right eye, he said, but since they're well away from the focus of my vision, I haven't noticed them.
Since then, I've tried to see the clots in my right eye. It takes enormous mental effort to move the focus of one's visual attention without moving one's eyes in concert. I haven't had any luck finding them.
His prognosis? the clot should go away by itself in about a month. If it doesn't, call him. I was moderately pleased with the news, but still concerned. I was having a great deal of trouble reading, and the idea of being unable to read for pleasure for a month--particularly while an invalid--was frightening.
Within a few days, though, my brain had managed to adjust. At this point, the smear has shrunk a little. In bright light, it's an area of distortion rather than opacity. Mostly, though, my right eye has just quietly compensated. I can go without noticing the smear for hours at a time. It's still frustrating, though, and a little scary. It's also the most concrete reminder of my illness still with me. I look forward to when the damn thing goes away.
comment by kat:
OMG THE SAME THING HAPPENED TO ME TOO. had a ct scan done. they called for a neurology consult before they brought in the eye doctor. the bright light and flashlight and the drops, daaaaaaaaaamn. this happened my first round of treatment, its mostly gone now, five month later though sometimes ill see a glimpse of it