So basically, I have permission to blame my father for everything.

It isn't quite that simple, really... but being assured that this isn't MY fault was a good thing at the time. Yeah.

So I went to the retina doc today, a follow-up to my ER visit on the 17th, where I found out I was "bleeding again" (see previous entry)
When I got there, I went to see the nurse, when called in, which is routine- vision check, pressure check, drug-list check, all that fun stuff.
First comes the right eye. Pretty good, about the same as before- nothing special.
Then, I cover my right eye to test the left.
Nothing.
Not I- can't- see- the- letters- but- I- can- see- the- white- square- they- are- on... just NOTHING. Not a single thing. I see the spots inside my eye, and I see grey-white fog.
She got a board with letters on it and held it closer to my face.
Nothing.
Waved her hands.
Nothing.
I saw a TINY bit of movement when her hand was maybe 6 inches from my face.
I burst into hysterics. I couldn't help it.
The resident, when I saw her, said "Umm, I can't see in there. There's too much blood. Like, a lot I can't see anything. Its all blood." Which, of course, did not calm me down. I lamented about how upset my mother is going to be, I am a burden again. Still. More. Again. Burden. She's going to kill me. The resident told me, flat out, "You can not blame yourself for this. This is NOT your fault. You could not do anything to prevent this, really, and you did NOT do anything to cause this. It isn't your fault, it is genetics. Blame the one who gave you the diabetes."

That did help, a little. Sort of.
My doc came in, and basically said the same thing- he couldn't see anything, and was really shocked that this is happening in so drastic a matter so soon after surgery.
He sent me for an immediate ultrasound. This was the only way we could tell if the retina had detached or not.
The retina is still intact, at this point. This is good.
The bad thing is that I basically have to wait-and-see (or not see, as the case may be)...
I go back in a month, barring any more disasters, and if things are not better, I get an Avastin injection, followed by laser, if the Avastin works.
I also got a call (automated) from the Hematology office AT 7PM saying that I have an appointment at the beginning of next week at the asscrack of dawn. I can't possibly get there. The buses don't start running that early. I called, and of course got the answering service, and told them to leave a message because I STILL haven't heard from anyone about my "abnormal" ultrasound. I was given quite the attitude and told I should call during business hours. I told the gal that I have done that 5 times and gone in in person twice and got NOTHING, so to leave a message for them to call. She paged, and the DOC told me to call during business hours.
At that point, I told the lady "Okay, but please make a note on my account that I have called many times and NEED to talk to someone soon. You can tell them I am being a bitch. Really. Do it. I give you permission to call me every name in the book- JUST MAKE HER CALL!" Here's hoping she calls in the morning or something.

After all of that, I went and toured a gym. I have a week's free pass, starting on Monday. After that, it is $100 a month, so there is no way I can afford that. Here's hoping I can at least learn some stuff during my week!
I also went to check out some live music with a friend, which was a very last-minute thing, but most definitely welcome. Good music, good people, good times. Yay.

My weight... eh. I don't know. It has dropped a little. Not as much as I would like, but its a start. I am under 230. Just barely, but I feel more mobile, and just hope that the weight stays off and keeps shrinking. I don't mind being big, but a balloon is a whole different story.