This is something of a progress report and a self-indulgent moan combined.
I have no clue if this is normal – it may be that I simply read too much into things, and that exaggerate the severity of symptoms simply because I know that I should have them. However, this morning, on waking, I found myself unable focus on a printed page.
I can read, but only by moving things around and interpreting the changing shapes, and this is a very slow process. An episode of scintillating scotoma which obscures a further part of my vision complicates things even further. As the morning advances I hope things improve (as they have been doing over the time it has taken to pick out this note). The scotoma should expand and ultimately disappear after about half-an-hour, and focusing should improve as my eyes dry out.
This is the shape of things to come, though, and it’s a depressing prospect. Still, though I stumble around the house I can still watch the sunrise and see the shadows shortening across the back lawn. I could wallow in gloom, or embrace the brighter side. For today, the whine has been poured out, and I’ll drink no more of it.
