The last post-op appointment for the cataract surgery in my left eye was today. Doc says come back in a year. Sounds good to me. I was supposed to have this surgery earlier in the year, but ended up having appendicitis surgery on the day it was scheduled. When I was in the hospital for that, they discovered the kidney cancer. But, it was early and the surgery saved me and the kidney with no post-off chemo or anything. A big scar, of course, but unless you’re psychic, you can’t see that.
I resisted cataract surgery for a long time because, quite frankly, I don’t like having surgery. Then people who’d had it said, “You know, you’re awake while they’re doing it.”
The surgery was very strange. Much stranger than the appendix or the kidney surgery, but without the need for pain pills, nurses, being forced to walk down the hall before they let me out, and all that.
The last time we drove to Memphis to see family prior to the cataract surgery, I was driving and missed some turn-offs because I couldn’t read the signs. My wife said, “It’s time.” Unfortunately, I had to agree with her. Now my vision is close to perfect for distance stuff, walking around the house, knocking over liquor stores and things like that. Cheapo reading glasses are required for reading and using the PC.
I don’t know what the hell any of this has to do with writing other than it’s nice to see what I’m writing. Sure, Beethoven was too deaf to hear his own music late into his life. I can’t imagine the talent it takes to make that work. I really don’t think I want to try writing by displaying the words on my screen at 200%. That’s really tedious, but I was doing that before I had the cataract surgery.
If this post is disjointed, it’s because I’m having a glass of Scotch to celebrate not having to go back to the eye doctor for a year. I’m still trying to figure out if I can see the future without having to get out my Tarot cards.