When it was all clear, his appointment with the Ophth went well: They found nothing, nothing at all. No broken blood vessel. Nothing to cauterize. Optic nerve, fine. Retina, fine. WTF? He went blind!
This eye thing was the effing worst! By God, I was going to do something about it! If he was going blind, I was going to figure out why!
So we planned a group pow-wow with his PCP. I had my list of questions. We were going to get to the bottom of this. I wasn't prepared for the simplicity of the PCP's largely-monosyllabic answers. Would this happen again? Don't know. Was it caused by a broken blood vessel? Probably. Not sure. Was it related to the diabetes? Don't know. Would it happen again? Ditto. Don't know. What an awkward consultation.
The moral of this long, seemingly irrelevant anecdote: Two medical doctors--a general practitioner and an Ophth guy--with literally decades of training and experience between them, were not able to answer our questions about this one little eye, but by God, the Archdruid knows that my partner is probably going to die from lack of insulin because of oil disruptions.
***
"They're all gonna laugh at you!" Carrie 's mom.
The on-line responses to my diatribes against the Uber-doomer hacks were entertaining. Mind you, my shift of point of view was miniscule : I still called myself a "doomer" but I was going to be an agnostic doomer. I was not going to treat every utterance by the hacks as if it were Holy Writ. I was going to ask critical questions. Unfortunately, the other commenters let me know that I was "on a crusade," that I have "my shorts in a wad," that I have "my own inner narrative," that I "need a drink," and that I was bringing the discussion "down the toilet," the usual boring Internet tropes, for which I have to thank them very much because they taught me that they have no counterarguments.
They taught me something else, too: I was one of them, and I was getting out.
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