Latest medical...

Well, yesterday I had my glucose tolerance test; results should be available either tomorrow or the day after. My left arm was sore for the rest of the day after having needles stuck in it by the very nice but rather heavy-handed nurse. This morning I have a spectacular blotchy pair of bruises in the crook of my elbow. I look as though an elbow-fetishist vampire has had a go at me.

Meanwhile, though, there is good news from Mum. She went to see the eye specialist at the local hospital and discovered that her mild Dry Macular Degeneration has suddenly morphed into Wet Macular Degeneneration, which sounds nasty but is treatable (unlike the Dry form, which just quietly gets worse over the years). The treatment involves having a series of injections into her retina, through her eyeball, which she is horrified about, but it's apparently a very good treatment with a high success rate. Because it is most effective if done quickly she is having her first session later this week, so at least she doesn't have time to get herself too worked up about it, and the friend who is taking her to the hospital had his cataracts done six months ago and is being very reassuring about how easy and painless eye surgery is.

So I am still concerned about myself, but very much relieved for Mum.

Mixed blessings...

Or rather, to be precise, mixed blessings and things-where-you-have-to-look-hard-to-find-the-blessing-if-there-is-one-at-all-and-sometimes-I-do-wonder-about-that.

It rained last night, and the weather has cooled off enormously. Very refreshing; but being British I am already catching myself thinking "I hope I don't get rained on on my way home."

I am going to WOMAD in ten days time. Going to WOMAD is great, but I am now worrying about the weather (see above).

My Mum is having eye problems and her optometrist wants her to see a specialist; she is desperately worried and unhappy about it and there is nothing I can do except say reassuring things and listen while she worries.

And my blood sugar levels are Not What They Should Be, and I have to take a glucose tolerance test (which involves drinking a whole bottle of lucozade - a seriously ugh situation) to see if I have developed type 2 diabetes. I'm in the low-risk group, except for being overweight. So I'm hoping that it will turn out to have been a blip of some kind in the initial test results. Really, really hoping. Diabetes is manageable, and properly managed it doesn't have to have that much impact on one's life - after all, Steve Redgrave is a diabetic, and it clearly hasn't held him back - but it is a progressive and irreversible condition, and a diagnosis is truly a life sentence. So I am really, really hoping it turns out okay. And I am pledging myself firmly to go on working to shed the excess weight accumulated during my broken-wrist-inspired months of comfort eating, comfort drinking, and cheese-indulging, this past winter.

Feeling a little low, and determined to find the good in it. Not sure what good I can find in Mum's woes, though, and I hate seeing someone worry themself sick. If only there were something concrete I could do to help.