A Little Bitty Tear Let Me Down

The other day I visited my Rhematologist for a follow up on my Sjogren's Syndrome which had been bothering me considerably, including bodily pain and exhaustion. He had given me a prescription for prednisone, which has been quite effective in making me feel better. Though I am still bothered very much by dry eye. That might not seem like a big deal to those who do not have it. But, just imagine yourself going through life with what feels like sand in your eyes, with pain and sometimes swelling of the eyelids. Not to mention your appearance is reminiscent of a bad hangover!

In my visit with the doctor, I hesitated to bring up the fact that I was disappointed the Prednisone didn't give me a "High". Usually it does, and I had been hoping for the benefits of it helping to pull me up from my recent depressive state. We discussed the fact that perhaps my depression was deeper than just a side effect of my physical condition and needed to be treated with anti-depressants instead. This made me more sad. I do have an underlying condition, and it was time for me to face needing care. Tears formed and fell down my cheeks. He handed me some tissues and said, "At least you are producing tears."

That was reassuring. I'm glad he reminded me. I had been feeling so sorry for myself. Sometimes I forget to count my blessings! Afterwards, I thought about what he said. Then wondered. If I can produce an abundant quantity of tears for the sake of crying, then why are my eyes still dry? And, then I thought, if I could just have a good cry every day, perhaps it would help my tear ducts be healthier. Of course, I began searching for information that might back up my theory.

I found the following: "There are in fact three types of tear, two of which are rather uninteresting: basal tears which lubricate and protect the eye and reflex tears which flush out irritants such as smoke particles or onion vapors. The third type of tear is, of course, shed in response to emotion, and differs from basal and reflex tears not only by its cause but also by its chemical composition, being considerably richer in certain substances such as prolactin and adrenocorticotropic hormone."

So now I wonder if because emotional tears have a different chemical composition, the idea of purposely crying every day wouldn't be beneficial. Hmmm... Is this making sense? Or is it just the hopeful wishes of a patient who wants to be in the know?

In the same article I found this: "Damage to the ophthalmic branch of the trigeminal nerve renders the surface of the eye insensitive and thereby prevents the production of reflex tears. However, it is the parasympathetic division of the facial nerve that is actually responsible for making tears, and damage to the facial nerve, as in Bell’s palsy, can lead to a decrease in tear production. Reflex and emotional tears are produced by the lacrimal gland and drained through the nasolacrimal canal into the nose."

I do NOT believe I have Bell's but I wonder if my TMJ could have an affect. Even though I have positively been identified by specialists at UCSF as having Sjogren's Syndrome, I wonder if my TMJ problems contribute to the much more troublesome dry eye problems that I experience on the right side. Perhaps if I could get appropriate treatment for the TMJ, then some of the pain and discomfort I have in the right eye could be diminished! Is my logic off? Or again, is this just wishful thinking?

And now for a little bit of fun!

Highlights from a Day in the Life...

Insomnia til 3 AM. Awake at 6. Wow! I got three straight hours. Kitty brings his mousie. I throw. He chases and returns with his prize, over and over again. He tires before I do, panting on the bed, mousie between his paws. I envy his droopy eyes. Too awake, I fix tea and toast, turn on the computer, check email. A good friend is diagnosed. Not the way to begin a day. I cry.

Phone rings, I miss the call, the important call I was waiting for. I can't call them back. Drats! I trip over kitty while getting the snail mail, there's the utility bill! Need I say more?

I crawl back into bed, a book in my hand. I awaken confused, a half hour before my appointment. Throw on yesterday's clothes, still wearing slippers, I run out of the house, my snarls wearing the hair brush.

Since I arrived late, I have to wait for the other patients to be seen first. On the way home, I stop at the fruit stand to enjoy a brief respite, drooling over strawberries, melon, banana, and fresh baked raisin bread. My rewards for a rough day.

Lugging my treasures through the parking lot, I realize my car has the keys locked inside, and trudge back into the store. I need to use their phone as my cell is with the keys! I call a taxi to take me home and wait while I break into my house to find spare keys and return me. I have to pay for the wait time as well as mileage. Forty seven bucks for strawberries, melon, banana, and raisin bread!

Finally, at home I can relax, take this morning's pills, settle down with a cup of tea, talk on the cell. While I grab the channel selector to watch the news, my cell falls into the tea!

Time to go to bed and hope for sleep.

Cry Daddy

I started to cry while driving. I had no idea why. It wasn't just that sense of tears starting to spring that you can hold back with a tightening of the throat. No, this came from somewhere deep. Like a volcano wanting to break loose. Tears unbidden. Tears with plans of their own.

I knew I had to get off the road, avoid being a danger to others. I can drive while crying. I've done it before. Haven't we all? It wasn't even a matter of understanding why I felt so sad.

I pulled over right there and then. Not wanting to break down completely, looking around for tissues, I noticed in the rear view mirror, the sheriff.

Oh, %^*&!

Would I get a traffic ticket for having pulled over without a reason? I would soon find out. It was just beginning to sprinkle, when the officer came to my rider side door. I opened it so he could lean in.

He took one look at me, I noticed in his eyes a flicker of recognition. He knew instinctively this wasn't a stalled car problem. Maybe he was thinking, a crying woman, Oh %^*&!".

But he said with concern, "Are you all right, Ma'am?"

I didn't know what to say. (I just started crying for no reason, officer, over nothing?) No, I didn't say that. I lied. Okay, maybe not a full lie, a little white lie. I told him my father died last year... a bit of overwhelming grief struck me while driving... I thought it would be safer to pull over, calm down.

He said some comforting words, I forget what.
And to get me out of danger he followed me to the next exit.

Maybe it is true after all. Maybe I am missing my Father. He was 90 when he died five years ago. He was my best supporter, and loved to listen to me read anything I might have written. A letter, a poem, a story, a family memoir, one of my opinionated pieces or a story about my cats. He would have liked to know a caring cop had stopped to help his daughter. He would have understood how tears and sadness come from nowhere, with no known reason. He would have understood my white lie.

Cries with Cop

I started to cry while driving on the freeway. I have no idea why. It wasn't simply that sense of tears starting to spring that you can hold back with a tightness in the throat. No, this came from somewhere deep. Like a volcano wanting to break loose. Tears unbidden. Tears with plans of their own.

I knew I had to get off the freeway as soon as possible to avoid being a danger to others. I can drive while crying. I've done it before. Haven't we all? It wasn't even a matter of understanding why I felt so sad.

There was an exit up ahead a couple miles, but I had to pull over right there and then.  I had the flashers on so that other drivers would at least notice I was on the side of the road. Not wanting to break down sobbing, I was looking around for some tissues, and thereby noticed from the rear view mirror, a vehicle coming up on me  from the rear. A police vehicle. Oh dear, oh yuck, oh %^*&! Can I get a traffic ticket for having pulled over on the freeway without having a flat tire of overheated engine? I would soon find out.

Officers in this area frequently come up to the passenger side of the car to talk to the driver, because the danger of a high speed vehicle clipping them while passing too closely. Therefore when the officer came to my door, I opened it so he could lean in. It was just beginning to sprinkle.

He took one look at me, and I noticed in his eyes a flicker of recognition. He knew instinctively that this wasn't a stalled car problem. Maybe he was thinking, a crying woman, Oh no, oh yuck, oh %^*&!". But he said with concern, "Are you all right, Ma'am?"

I didn't know what to say. (I just started crying for no reason, officer, over nothing?) No, I didn't say that. I lied. Okay, maybe not a full lie, a little white lie. I told him my mother died last year... and a bit of overwhelming grief struck me while driving... and I thought it would be safer for me to pull over to calm down. He said some comforting words, and to get me out of danger of the traffic, he followed me to the next exit.

Maybe it is true after all. Maybe I am missing my mother. She was 87 when she died a couple years ago. She was my best supporter, and loved to me read anything I might have written. A letter, a poem, a story, one of my opinionated pieces or a journal page about my cats. She would have liked this posting to know a caring cop had stopped to help her daughter. She would have understood how tears and sadness come from nowhere, with no known reason. She would have understood my white lie.

Please note:  I love to take pictures of vintage cars. The last picture is of my Mom in our 1955 Nash Rambler. 

Ever feel like giving up?

I Love Living Life. I Am Happy.
Nick Vujicic





Something to think about, to cry about, to laugh.....
Play it again, and again, if need be.