Dear Readers. Sorry for my relative silence. I've been undergoing sheer hell for the past two years, but have to admit the past month or so has been the icing on the cake. I've so much to tell you, dear Reader, but it's way too long to cohesively write down in one post. So I'll have to do it in separate pieces. Hopefully, interspersed with some wild ones about sex and consumer service that made my name.
As some of you know, I've two rare neurological deafness conditions, AHEM, now one of them has been upgraded to a disease: Hyperacusis is listed in the Office of Rare Diseases (ORD) of the National Institutes of Health (NIH) which means it affects less than 200,000 ppl in the US population.
My SSNHL has yet to be declared a rare disease, but I've hope. Only 4500 people a year come down with it in the US, yet 4300 bounce right back. Yes, I'm one of the 200 people a year who have permanent hearing loss. Now I know it's because the ENT gave me the right medication, but didn't apply it properly.
As you may recall (or not), I was recently put on anti-depressants because I was depressed that I came down with two, I mean, one rare neurological deafness diseases and one rare neurological deafness conditions because the ENT didn't give a shit and gave me an oral dose instead of the shot, imperiling my health twice.
After she permanently deafened me (which I found out last year), I was then instructed by that mutant ENT to go on meds and be institutionalized because she said in response to my complaints of what I undergo due to my rare diseases, "I never heard of ANYTHING like this in my entire life!" Something tells me mail order medical degrees from Puerto Rico don't address rare neurological diseases. Let's say this purported doctor shot herself in the foot as she put this shit in my medical records. Life's gonna get fun down the road...
Back to the topic at hand, I suggested Welbutrin to my shrink because I was on that after 9/11 and remembered I had no problems. But that was over a decade ago. This time around, I wasn't even on Welbutrin for two months when I noticed radical changes to my vision. Radical in that my vision sharpened and honed to such perfection in distance I could see the veins on a leaf from 500 feet away. Then, an hour later, everything got blurry. Of course, my vision for reading got bad as well.
After two weeks, I ran to the ophthalmologist. As usual, he treated me with the common disdain most doctors give a post-menopausal woman.
Oh - a sidebar. It's a KNOWN fact that post-menopausal women are treated with indifference and disdain, ignored and misdiagnosed by the medical community, male and female doctors alike. One could almost call it a dirty secret as it's so well known and there's no hue and cry.
I'm treated with slight indulgence by all my doctors because I'm a very pretty 58 year old woman. They can mildly tolerate a very pretty older woman who has tons of tattoos and a nose ring. And then again, I've a little celebrity status as an acclaimed author. But, that tolerance lasts for only a few minutes. They find me frivolous and strange like one of those animals in a petting zoo. Insofar as my rare neurological deafnesses go, that's treated as products from my fertile imagination.
So, this younger doctor, this ophthalmologist rolls his eyes while I describe what I went through for two weeks mainly because I saw him three months previously for my annual eye exam. We review my medication which now includes Welbutrin. Actually, my medication consists mostly of one product, Synthroid from a dead thyroid eons ago.
The other medication I use on a daily basis is Latisse. In an earlier blog post, 19 Eyelashes, I wrote about how Latisse, the medication used for glaucoma, has changed my life because it can grow eyelashes on bowling balls. "Please don't make me stop using Latisse!" I wailed.
He shot me one of his typical elusive smiles. Elusive in that I can't tell whether he wants to tell me to shut the fuck up or shut the fuck up. He performed all sorts of tests on my eyes and swiftly notated things in his computer.
"Well, doc?" I asked when he finished typing.
"Actually, it's the Latisse that has saved your vision," he said. "You must stop Welbutrin immediately as this is one of the rare side effects. You've glaucoma and in a month we'll schedule laser surgery."
In shock, I repeated, "Glaucoma?"
I phoned my shrink. "I gotta get off Welbutrin stat! It caused me glaucoma."
"Glaucoma?" she repeated. "That's so rare..."
"Think about it," I said. "I've complained that I put on weight with Welbutrin whereas people are supposed to LOSE weight! It makes a lot of sense that I'd get glaucoma. If you look at my luck with two disparate rare neurological deafness diseases that only a few hundred people in the entire country have..."
Yes, what are the odds? Something tells me I should play Power Ball. At least those odds are in my favor.
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