2020 to 2023 - The drag on years.

Damn, I was only 19(ish) years from retirement.

It's been a tough few years since my last post. COVID-19 introduced itself and had a devastating impact all over the world, and whilst challenges brought by its arrival could have added more complexity around any thoughts I still harboured of pastures new, the personal impact was in truth, minimal. As efforts were made with immediacy to try and control the spread and impact of the virus globally, I was doing my best here to get my vision restored to a workable level, in the hope that when the situation calmed again both at home and abroad, I would be in a position to leave without unnecessary delay.

Eye, Eye.

At consultations in 2020, as I prepared for cataract surgery to be undertaken, I asked whether it would be possible for the lenses that were going to be inserted to be ones that would leave me a little bit more short-sighted. I reasoned that as much of my work had been screen-based over the years, this choice would give me more of a chance of spending longer periods spectacles-free. It would also be useful for reading any food labels close up as I like to check the nutritional values where possible. It's kind of a diabetic habit. 

The operation on my left eye ended with the minimum focal distance being set long, evidenced by the watch that sat afterwards stubbornly out of focus upon my fully outstretched arm. Not precisely the outcome that I was after.  So when the time came for the right eye to be operated on a few months later, I again stressed my desire for a lens with a shorter focus to be used. I had read that the brain was able to tolerate a certain amount of variation in eyesight strength, so it was my hope that by having one eye slightly longer-sighted and the other slightly short, the brain could adapt to use whichever is most appropriate at any given time. For one day that theory worked beautifully in practice. The following day however would bring discomfort and a distinct lack of definition through that same eye. 

A hospital trip found that the internal pressure had become severely raised, and I was soon given tablets and drops to bring it back in line with where it should be. As the pressure dropped down and the sight started to return, it became apparent that the vision was now less capable than it had been on the day after the operation. Further inspection found that the new implant had shifted, and this had introduced some double vision, with only the slightest dilation of the pupil needed for any bright object in a lower light environment to catch the edge of the lens in its new position. Reflective double yellow lines became lines of three or four, steps with reflective strips became a game of trip chance and crossing the road in the rain would mean taking a punt against an indecipherable mass of lights, all moving at different speeds and different directions. I can recall being in Ha Noi (I think in 2016) and noting how visible traffic could be when large portions of it were just ambiently lit by the city. When not everyone was riding with their headlamps on full blast or every vehicle was competing to throw beams so intense that they could blind or cook a small rodent at 50 paces. At that point in time I would have rather been taking my chances there for sure despite its chaotic reputation. Mine is an edge-case scenario obviously, but I can attest to the fact that more and more bright lights do not always make everything more visible. Blindingly obvious.

It would take several months for a replacement lens to be fitted, but whilst an improvement in some crucial ways, it also brought with it some more problems. The position once again is not exactly correct with a small amount of diffraction due to it being off-centre, and there is a dependency on multiple drops daily to try and keep the eye pressure from going too high. Some internal haemorrhaging can also happen from time to time, but it is as yet unclear whether this is linked to the aforementioned problems or not. An upcoming operation that has been scheduled in a short time from now should allow for further investigations to take place, and whilst not that hopeful of a permanent fix or cure, it would be good to gain a better understanding of how it can be managed more effectively going forward.

At this point in time, I really can not remember fully the list of broken bones and other medical issues that have made themselves known during my nearly five decades on this planet, but it's a list that keeps on growing.

Anyone for cabbage?

The heart has also required a little work, which came in the form of a coronary artery bypass graft, or CABG for short (often spoken as cabbage on the wards) in 2022. There was no real drama into the run-up for me needing this, no grabbing of the chest or severe gasping for breath. My symptoms were overall less severe than one may imagine when hearing the term "Heart Attack", but the end result was no different to many who have suffered such discomfort. Notably, there is now a sizeable scar that runs down the centre of my chest, a reminder of where the surgeons cracked me open so that their particular brand of black magic could be performed. It had been decided previously that the using of stents would not be suitable given the overall condition of the artery in question. Besides, a graft could be a longer-term solution anyway as potentially it could be something that could last for 25 or 30-plus years.

Several months into recovery, the wire holding my sternum in place either loosened or broke which led to parts of my chest being able to move around in a way that was less than ideal. With this additional movement came a level of discomfort that I wasn't entirely at ease with, but I was assured by the heart specialists that whilst it may have felt unpleasant at times (and that was on a good day), the situation was one that wasn't overly dangerous. The decision then was completely mine as to whether I wanted to undergo another operation to sure things back up internally, or just stick with where I was. As the proposed procedure wasn't risk-free to begin with (as ever), and would mean being opened back up again in order for the old wire (or wires) to be untangled, removed and replaced, I wasn't exactly keen. This was despite of the many sleep-deprived nights that I was having to cope with at this time.

The first question that had been put to me after the scans had been examined was “Can you feel any wires poking out of your chest?”, which I was happy to confirm I could not. My first question in response was whether, as things currently stood, there would be a limit to the weight that I would be able to carry, and I was assured that any limit would not be because of the condition of the chest. Having had to adhere to such strict limits for many months following the surgery, I questioned again, pressing as to whether maybe 25kg would be acceptable. This was as direct a question as I could muster. 25kg would have been around the most that any of my backpacks would have held on my longer trips abroad, so when he stated a "no limit" limit, my mind was made up. I decided that I would not go for a second operation. I would deal with the intermittent discomfort if it meant there was a better chance of leaving sooner and hope that over time, that level of discomfort would diminish.

Besides, sometimes it's better the devil you know.

So now what??
Many things have changed in the past few years and it seems like such a long time ago that I was set on leaving. I would still love to get going for sure, but it's difficult at this time to see how I could forge that long-term future away from the UK. Aside from everything else, or mostly because of, my travel insurance quotes have gone through the roof. Surely all of these premiums should be decreasing in price the more of me that gets repaired and/or replaced. Could there be a gap in the market for a new kind of insurance type somewhere between medical cover and mechanical breakdown (with or without home start)? Part man, part machine, all crock.  

Maybe I should just concentrate on leaving first and then seeing exactly how things evolve. Away from this place, either when travelling around or being planted firmly in a location less familiar, I always felt more productive. Now, that boost could well have been the result of some naughty sugars hidden away in my dietary intake, one where I was not fully aware of the contents at the time of consumption, but that's doubtful. It is more likely that I am in need of something else to better fuel my interests. Something different than what I currently have here at my disposal. 

I am feeling again that I need to get away, and soonish. Before the UK has another go at tapping the heels out from under me. The time may now be upon me to start thinking about book three of my unlikely-to-be-written trilogy. 

Open to suggestions at this point.