Behind These Hazel Eyes

My Trigeminal Neuralgia went full blown Type 2 in April of 2007. I would awake pain free but would be hit hard with stabbing pains in the left eye. I saw my eye doctor, my eyes were fine. She theorized that my 5th nerve was inflamed, Trigeminal Neuralgia. She was the only doctor I saw for the next five years that had it right and I saw ear/nose/throat specialist, chiropractor, and a neurologist to name a few.

Late 2010 or early 2011 I went in for a yearly check up with my eye doctor. My right eye passed the field vision test, but my left eye, my TN side, didn’t. I went back every now and then to take retake the test free of charge. The left eye kept bombing as if it were a B-2 Stealth Bomber carpet bombing Baghdad during ‘Shock and Awe’. Every result was different; my doctor couldn’t determine what the cause was due to the varying results.

I started noticing I was seeing halos at night. I knew that it was something I shouldn’t ignore, glaucoma ran in the family. Mercifully my left eye decided to be kind and passed the silly field vision test. I was sent to see an eye specialist.

Pressure was fine, but the size of my optical nerves indicated that I might have glaucoma. I told him about what was happening with my pain, straight neck, and my TMD. Five months later I was finally diagnosed with Trigeminal Neuralgia. Yes, I am a mess.

2013 I returned for my annual exam for the eye specialist. Pressure was fine and the optical nerves were still the same. I informed him that I had been diagnosed with Trigeminal Neuralgia. He stated that might be why my nerves were the size that they are, but I still needed to come back due to my family history. Not a problem.

May 2014 I returned with my bodacious wife. Pressure was fine and my optical nerves were still the same size. I asked him if my TN had anything to do with the size of my nerves. He flatly stated that they were unrelated. Huh?

As I write this I’m still confused, I’m confused even more when I read about other TN suffers having vision issues. It makes me wonder how many of us do have vision issues.

Sports

I have been to numerous sporting events during my brief stay on God's Earth. However, now it is out of the question. My trigeminal nerve could not take the strobing pulsating lights or the loud raucous music played at today's collegiate and professional games. I probably wouldn't last a few laps at a NASCAR race.

The World Cup...I probably wouldn't get inside the stadium without a major flareup. If I would somehow manage to get inside the stadium, the raucous fans, drumming, and the Samba mixing together into a titanic beehive buzz would drive me insane with pain.

Even watching on TV can be tricky. Last year, my Dolphins scored a late touchdown and beat the Falcons, I was pumped. I yelled, jumped, and clapped my hands. It felt like I was sitting in the Orange Bowl and watched Dan Marino leading the Dolphins to victory. My bodacious wife told me I better settle down, I didn't listen. The next few days were pure heck. I only watch bits and pieces now as not to overstimulate my trigeminal nerve.

Super Duper Bass Buster Plug

In honor of my dad on Father's Day

Many moons ago, long before the days of Outdoor World at Griffin Road and I-95 my dad received a shipment of super duper guarantee bass buster plugs in the mail from Bass Pro Shops. A few days later dad took us to go fishing out in the Everglades. We stopped at one of our usual spots, a canal that ran parallel to US 27 north of Alligator Alley in West Broward County. Dad secured one of those guarantee bass busters onto my line and I proudly went fishing.

Sometime later I was reeling in the super duper guarantee bass buster plug when a speeding boat rounded the corner. I furiously, yet futilely, reeled in the super duper guarantee bass buster plug. I felt the line and my pole vibrate as the boat’s spinning propellers cut the line.

The boat sped away as the plug aimlessly bobbed up and down in the wakes of the alligator infested canal. Needless to say dad was angry, not at me, but at the fact that this brand new super duper guarantee bass buster plug was slowly drifting to the other side of the canal.

The bass buster plug continued to float across that alligator infested canal as dad and I tried to snag it with another super duper guarantee bass buster plugs that he ordered. We missed and the plug disappeared as another boat sped by. He started ranting and raving and carried on about this being a brand new super duper guarantee bass buster plug that he paid good money. He would calm down only to start up again a few minutes later. Dad continued to have his insane rants followed by a few moments of sanity before starting up again. His face grew redder with every rant; thick toxic black smoke billowed out of his ears as he wildly threw his hands up in the air.

Inadvertently, I made things worse. My young keen eyes spotted that super duper guarantee bass buster plug and I pointed out to dad where it was. The thick toxic black smoke became thicker as he gazed upon that dry docked super duper guarantee bass buster plug; he started to rant and rave again until he had what can only described as a Wolf moment.

He ripped off his shoes, threw off his socks, and stormed into the canal even though the bank was full of small jagged rocks. Uh, did I mention that this canal was alligator infested? I did…good. Anyhoo, dad swam like Kermit the Frog as we watched in utter disbelief. The coots started laughing at him. Ospreys stopped what they were doing and tilted their curious heads. They tilted their feathery heads again before they flapped their wings and cackled as if to say, “Gator bait! Gator bait!”

Meanwhile, I had a flashback of reading an old Miami Herald clipping about my dad, his sisters and brother getting a new puppy after the last one had met an untimely demise at the jaws of another alligator. I prayed that I wouldn’t be seeing anything like that.

He reached the other shore and now had another problem. He couldn’t put the super duper guarantee bass buster plug in his hands or place it in his pockets. The barbs would dig into his skin, so dad put it between his teeth and swam back.

He safely returned to our side, thank God. Water poured off of him as he proudly marched back upon dry land. He triumphantly hoisted into the warm South Florida air that super duper guarantee bass buster plug that to this day has yet to catch a single bass.

© Copyright 2013 LtRyanWolf (UN: ryanwolf at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.

Vero Beach Sunset!

June 6, 2014 outside Best Buy on SR60

Blue Angels

As I said in my May 30, 2014 entry was this was the first time seeing the Blue Angels since the Opa-Locka airshows of the late 80/early 90s. I took a Trigeminal Neuralgia gamble by buying tickets, I knew I was tempting fate, but I didn't care. I survived Shockwave, now it was time to see how my mutinous nerve would react to the Blues.

The Angels didn't disappoint. This was the best airshow I've seen in a long long time. Angel #5 and Angel #6 were approaching fast as the distracted crowed oohed and ahhed over Angels 1-4 performing pin point maneuvering at 600MPH. I brought my camera on the screaming blue duo. I snapped a photo, see above, and saw a cone beginning to form on the front of Five's wing. "UH OH," I thought. Five and Six were coming in near supersonic speed. They eased off and the cone disappeared.

I could feel the shriek of the engines knifing into my ear. The Angels set off several car alarms as they thundered away. I held my aching ear, but I was smiling wildly; the pain was ebbing as I watched the F-18s streak away. I felt fantastic! Tho I did have to take two Excedrin Migraines a few hours later.

It was worth it.

Happy Birthday Ryan! Part 1

I have been working on this for over a year, didn't finish it like I wanted. Ryan's writer either misplaced his notes for the story or never wrote it down. I couldn't figure out where I wanted to take it. Sooooooo enjoy part 1, maybe I'll have part 2 ready by 2015 or Ryan's birthday, November 26.

I used to hate my birthday, well, not exactly; I did love the delicious cake, scrumptious ice cream and ice cold Coca-Cola as well as the presents. However, my birthday always coincided with the beginning of the dreaded Atlantic basin hurricane season. June 1 would always bring out the worse in the Miami media, they would sensationalize the season by stating that if I didn’t watch their show that night that I might die. This is why I hated my birthday.

It was nonstop of that dreaded infamous nine letter “H” word. The Miami Herald would fire the first salvo of the season with a big announcement heralding the beginning of the season on the front page. There was no escaping it, the weatherman would join in on the early AM shows. It would continue on the radio, it was a continual blitzkrieg of narcissist drivel.

There was no escape from the hurricane hysteria, not even in the sports page. The Miami Herald had a ditzy dizzy blonde reporter write an article about how the Miami Hurricanes needed to change their name. She asked, “"How can we ever give a heartfelt cheer for the Hurricanes again?" Would someone please tell her hurricanes have been kissing Fort Dallas/Miami before 1896!

1993 was the year things escalated, one year removed from the buzz saw that was Hurricane Andrew. Bryan Norcross, the hero of Hurricane Andrew, would come on TV reminding you that he was the hero of the Hurricane Andrew. You flipped the channel to that sensational station that featured Rick Sanchez and Sally Fitz, Rick would look at the screen with his smug puss trying to be ultra-cool as he spoke, “You know, you’re going to die if you don’t watch our hurricane special tonight.” At times I thought this over hyped duo was about to climb atop their desk and scream, “The hurricane is coming! The hurricane is coming! Run for the hills, the hurricane is coming!” Don Noe knows nothing rounded up the nauseating migraine.

I’m digressing away from my birthday so I’ll end this part. Bryan Norcross graduated to the Weather Channel where you can see him periodically talking about Hurricane Andrew. Sally Fitz resigned to be with her husband. Rick Sanchez was picked up, dropped by MSNBC and CNN. The ditzy dizzy blond still writes for the Miami Herald. As for Don Noe? I don’t know.