Thursday, January 24, 2013

Vile jelly, more snow, and funny faces.


I saw the eye doctor yesterday, it was all very brisk; his receptionist trotted round the very crowded waiting room putting drops in everyone's eyes, and he stuck my head in a thing and shone a bright light into my eye.  He then told me my condition was 'classique', and explained that some of my vitreous fluid had detached from the wall of the eye, which had caused a bit of bleeding (the black spots and squiggly lines) and a bit of pulling (the flashing lights) and now a bit of stray fluid was moving about where it shouldn't (the blurring). This could in theory precede a retinal tear, which could in turn precede a detached retina, but this was unlikely as it seemed to be subsiding, and eventually all should settle down and return to normal. If not and any of the symptoms returned in any noticeable degree, then to come straight back.  I should also not be surprised if it happened in the other eye some time; if it did come and have it checked anyway.  So I am now in the desirable position of being on an ophthalmologist's books, which is no bad thing.

And that, one hopes, is the end of that little episode.

~

In fact on Monday morning, despite all signs, both circumstantial and officially meteorological, that the snow was going away, we woke to yet more of it.  I sat on the bedroom windowsill and took pictures of it.  Our garden always looks good from there in the snow, you can't see all the weeds and soggy bits and unfinished and deteriorating paths.




The last one is mostly next door's garden, I include it because it shows our view out to Bel Air, at 339 metres the highest point of Côtes d'Armor (not a mountainous region), and not so very much higher than we are, which accounts for why we got snow when much of the department didn't.

~
And here are some experimental things using some of the tricks on the webcam on this little computer and the on line photo-editing app known as iPiccy, which is really very good and will probably do as much as Picasa when I get used to it, except of course for shrinking and exporting photos to upload, since you have to upload them to work on them.  Doesn't matter with webcam stuff as it's small anyway.



This 'kaleidoscope' filter on the webcam is quite addictive.  These are mostly parts of my fizzog; the eye one would have been even better yesterday when the eye in question was all weird and dilated.  The bottom right one, and the top left in the first collage it was the telly reflecting in my glasses (we were watching an X-men film, which Tom's daughter sent us for Christmas, only I was playing with webcam and only watching some of the time.  I can take or leave science fiction really, but I quite like Patrick Stewart and have a nostalgic fondness for Marvel Comics)


And this is with a 'photocopy' filter, which I rather like as it's kind of flattering, since it doesn't show any lines or saggy bits.  Come to that it doesn't even really show my nose either.  Not that I mind my nose, as bits of me go.


Time to stop playing about already.

16 comments:

marly youmans said...

Good health to your eye!

And I am wishing hard for tidy green walls in my garden--have plenty of snow with which to deck them.

Roderick Robinson said...

I trust your nose has only gone photographically not altogether. A slight bit of ambiguity, there. Your admirers wait for clarity on tenterhooks (a posture I've always thought was probably painful).

You were terribly brave and casual about the fluids, I thought.

zephyr said...

you are delightfully funny, dear Lucy!
and what a hoot--those webcam photos.
that one of your fingers creates quite the startling "BIG, scary arachnid" thoughts in me.
not that i'm scared of spiders
when they are little things.
Albino tarantulas who wear rings are another thing altogether...
;^)

Anne said...

Those are the boxiest bushes I ever saw. The webcam pics are extremely weird and spooky. I hope the eyes mend soon. I go to the eye doctor next month to be told, I know, that I must have my cataracts "done".

Dale said...

I am so glad to see you again! Do heed the ophthalmologist and go straight back should anything happen again: with many eye conditions, speed is everything.

xoxo

the polish chick said...

your garden is lovely and very versaiilesque (if that's not a word, it ought to be).

Zhoen said...

With ailments, it's aways best to be classic. The usual. They know how best to deal with that.

Snow undisturbed, does make everything rather lovely.

Rouchswalwe said...

The middle row left 'kaleidoscope' pix is amazing. The eyes have it. I'm glad to hear that your eye episode was a classic one and is over. Fini! as my Grandmama used to say. It's much snowier by you than it is here. Beautiful!

Bruce Taylor, a.k.a. Catalyst said...

Oh, Lucy, that final photo is sensational. Tell Tom he's in danger of losing you!

Lucy said...

Thanks all. The eye is still slightly misty but I'm sure it will settle down.

The hedges were all cut a couple of months ago so are looking nice and square. The garden has a lovely design, thanks to Tom, though it is often rather unkempt, and still needs work on it.

Catalyst - thank you, that's very sweet. However, I'm sorry to say the picture looks absolutely nothing like me, amazing what a filter can do! On a good day at a good angle in a good light I might have looked a bit like that when I was twenty, but alas, no longer. Ah well...

Ellena said...

Impressive garden(s). So, when you say Tom is in the garden it's not because you can see him out there it's because you know. I enjoy your playing about.

Joe Hyam said...

Glad to hear about the eye and impressed by the computer images. There seems to be no end to the possibility of graphic experiments with electronic devices.

Avus said...

Eye problems can be a bit worrying - I know, having had very similar troubles to you. Mine have cleared completely - I hope yours do similarly, Lucy.

Crafty Green Poet said...

Lovely snowy views. Hope your eye settles down

Dick said...

I have the same problem, Lucy. Very alarming to start with, but the very sanguine doc I consulted said only to worry if a black veil descended. In that event rush straight to casualty, he advised. When I asked about the likelihood of the black veil, he spread his hands in a decidedly Gallic manner and said, "Well, at your age...".

Mouse said...

Goodness!
Such precise clipping, and when I think of my over-grown mess of a bramble patch...
And snow,, next time I'm in Brittany in winter I know where to head for the white stuff!
And the photo, mine would have to be minus the head to flatter me,

But good news re the eye

goodness, still in awe over the hedges!