Today would have been my second eye operation, but my tumble to the pavement ten days ago has pushed the procedure into late January.
Never mind. Having just one eye done has made a significant difference.
I was just reading my journal entry from six weeks ago. It sounds euphoric, to say the least:
Oh. My. God. I CAN SEE.
Today was my first post-operative visit to Moka House. In the pre-dawn light, I peered into the lit windows of the buildings I passed: lamps and shelves and wallpaper. In the arch of trees, I could see branches, leaves.
Walking by a man at the bus stop, whose figure stood out in clear relief. He stared into nothingness, listening to whatever was in his white earbuds. He didn't appear to notice me, but, by golly, I could see him: his side profile, the strands of his blond hair.
I stopped at the bottom of the steps leading into the coffeehouse patio, taking in the individual bulbs in the string of lights. I entered and could actually see the baked goods, and read the menu on the chalkboard. For the first time in over a year, I read the posted clip of the day's horoscope by the pick-up station.
There's a beautiful, small, dark painting on the wall opposite me. I've never noticed it before. The other paintings are clear and colourful, not impressionistic at all.
And this was long after the Ativan wore off. On the morning of my operation, I was offered medication, as I sat in a recliner in the waiting room, my eye full of various preparatory drops. I told the nurse that giving birth twice has taught me to accept any drugs offered before a procedure.
"Fair," he said, cheerfully, giving me the tiny pill to pop under my tongue. A fair bit later, I was gingerly positioning myself on the narrow operating bed, and the doctor pressed a kind of white gel pack to my eye, through which he opened a hole.
And all I could see was a kaleidoscope of brilliant oozy smears of light, blobs that changed colour from magenta to royal blue to poison green. It reminded of the "Stargate" bit from 2001: A Space Odyssey.Thank goodness they were playing a classical guitar piece, and not the weird music from that part of the film -- or the rather clubby, thumpy stuff which was on when I came in.