Sunday, December 9, 2012

Just a Smoke Machine

I wear glasses. My doctor has told me several times that my vision problems aren't diabetes related, just genetics luck of the draw. I do have some cloudiness that shows the start of cataracts on both of my eyes, but neither are affecting my vision. I do have some bleeding in both of my eyes, but it's minimal and also not affecting my vision.

Over the years, one of my greatest fears is loosing my vision to diabetes. A lot of things can happen when you have diabetes. You can loose limbs. You can have kidney problems. But vision has always been on top of my fear list.

I know that it's very possible that I'll have to have eye surgery at some point in my life, but I'm praying it's many years away. That being said, there are always little things that happen, when I wonder if something is diabetes related.

I went to church this morning (as I do most Sundays), but this was our special Christmas program. My church, for the past three years, have done something called The Living Christmas Tree. If you've never had the chance to see a Living Christmas Tree, you should find one near you and go! Basically, it's a choir stand that is Christmas tree shaped. People stand on the different levels and when the tree is lit and the people are singing, it's almost like the people are the ornaments in the tree.

As I was sitting in the sanctuary, waiting on the service to start, I noticed that things looked a little fuzzy to me in the distance. The lights were slightly dimmed, and when I pulled my glasses off, I could tell they were dirty and I cleaned them. When I put them back on, things were still fuzzy. I cleaned my glasses again.

I couldn't figure it out. Why were things so fuzzy? I thought "maybe there's a smoke machine somewhere in here." I looked around. I didn't see a smoke machine. Or smell one (I can usually smell them).

Suddenly, I had an awful thought. What if something was wrong with my vision? What if it wasn't my glasses. Or a smoke machine. What if it was something with my eyes?? As I sat there, waiting on church, and the program to start, I was working my way through my thoughts. I could probably get an appointment with my eye doctor first thing Monday morning, if I called right as they opened. How many appointments would have reschedule at work? Could someone cover for me if I couldn't reschedule? Would I have to go to the office out of town for my eye appointment?

While all this is running through my head, I reminded myself, again, that there was a possibility that I was imagining things. That there was a smoke machine I was missing. Something. I prayed. And decided to see how things looked when the lights came back up and I got outside of the sanctuary.

I moved it to the back of my head and watched this year's performance of The Living Christmas Tree. I was blessed. It was wonderful.And when I walked out of the sanctuary I became convinced that there had been a smoke machine in the church somewhere. I could see just fine.

I just wonder, if it weren't for diabetes would the thought about the fuzzy/blurry even been a thought in my head? I don't know. I've not really ever known life without diabetes. I wonder if anyone else in the building noticed the blurriness and thought anything about it at all?

It's amazing how diabetes can jump into our lives and take over other areas. Thirsty isn't just thirsty anymore, it's "high." Sleepy isn't just sleepy, it's "low." Blurry vision isn't just sleep deprivation, it's "low" or actual vision problems. Everything becomes diabetes, even when it's just a smoke machine.


Scott S said...

I wonder the same things sometimes!

Scott K. Johnson said...

Isn't it crazy how diabetes totally invades our minds sometimes? Totally been there myself!

Scott E said...

I've had those "I feel like my glasses are dirty" moments at times. It's not like trouble focusing (i.e. a wrong prescription), but more like looking through a cloudy film. It freaks me out, but then it goes away, and I wonder if it was all in my head. It really freaks me out sometimes.

Anonymous said...

I was just diagnosed with T1, and I can already relate. Nothing is simple anymore.