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LeafDream of Bluster
Mar. 10th, 2022 09:44 pmI start each day determined to enjoy it, but by the end of it, some of that determination has often evaporated. It didn't help that I had a bad dream and awoke in the pre-dawn hours. It was one of those dreams about catastrophe in which people are choosing different ways to flee, and I was saying good-bye to loved ones I was pretty sure I'd never see again, including my parents. It also involved looking for a safe place while realizing that no place would be safe for long. A little too realistic. I was trying to go back to sleep when the Sparrowhawk started yelling in his sleep. At that point I realized that my supervigilance button was irrevocably pushed and I would have to get up for awhile. And I still had my eyepatch taped to my face, grr, argh. In the great scheme of things, these are petty complaints, but they were quite unpleasant enough for 3:30 am. Thank goodness, I was able to crawl back in bed and take a wee nap before it was time to go to my too-early post-op checkup.
After that, the good news started, as I got to take off the eyepatch and have two eyes again! Yay! The doctor says everything looks fine. I feel as if my eyeball is still in the process of adjusting, but it's pretty great. I can see so much so clearly. I'm still in the process of tweaking and fiddling with the all-important clarity at reading distance. I have a pair of 2.5 reading glasses that work perfectly well, but distort the surrounding area. Once I'm sure the swelling has diminished, I will try some different, possibly lesser magnifications, to see if they work better. But, in the meantime, everything is fine for now.
I came home, took a shower, and went off to the bookstore, where I met Madame for lunch. I also picked up my copy of Ruth Sanderson's picture book biography of Rosa Bonheur, A Storm of Horses. What a beautiful book! Alas, I don't have a granddaughter to give it to, so I guess I'll have to keep it for myself. I also bought Donato Giancola's big book, Middle Earth: Journeys in Myth and Legend. I'm swooning. Now I just want him to illustrate EVERY PAGE of the books. Came home again, tried to work, got very little done.
And that's where things got weird. I was in the middle of something else when our sometime friend Wol called. I did not pick up. He left a very weird voicemail of which I could make neither head nor tail. An hour later, when I was done, I called him back. I uttered the usual pleasantries about where are you, how's it going, etc. By a circuitous route, I learned that he was in fact lying on the back steps of his old house and was unable to get up. He had a couple of friends with him, and they were just about to call the fire department. He said that maybe I should call him back later . . . . So that was an odd conversation, what there was of it. Facebook thoughtfully sent me a memory--my mother at her last birthday, March 10 in 2019, two months before she died. I took advantage of Wol's absence to call Queenie and check in with her, because I knew she'd be having similar thoughts. After supper I called Wol back. It was a long story. But he was back at his son's house where he lives now, apparently none the worse for wear. We had an extended, disjointed chat that was all very well except for the hour of my life that I'll never get back. Too many conversations for a person who was under the influence of powerful drugs within the last 36 hours. Think I'll go to bed now.
After that, the good news started, as I got to take off the eyepatch and have two eyes again! Yay! The doctor says everything looks fine. I feel as if my eyeball is still in the process of adjusting, but it's pretty great. I can see so much so clearly. I'm still in the process of tweaking and fiddling with the all-important clarity at reading distance. I have a pair of 2.5 reading glasses that work perfectly well, but distort the surrounding area. Once I'm sure the swelling has diminished, I will try some different, possibly lesser magnifications, to see if they work better. But, in the meantime, everything is fine for now.
I came home, took a shower, and went off to the bookstore, where I met Madame for lunch. I also picked up my copy of Ruth Sanderson's picture book biography of Rosa Bonheur, A Storm of Horses. What a beautiful book! Alas, I don't have a granddaughter to give it to, so I guess I'll have to keep it for myself. I also bought Donato Giancola's big book, Middle Earth: Journeys in Myth and Legend. I'm swooning. Now I just want him to illustrate EVERY PAGE of the books. Came home again, tried to work, got very little done.
And that's where things got weird. I was in the middle of something else when our sometime friend Wol called. I did not pick up. He left a very weird voicemail of which I could make neither head nor tail. An hour later, when I was done, I called him back. I uttered the usual pleasantries about where are you, how's it going, etc. By a circuitous route, I learned that he was in fact lying on the back steps of his old house and was unable to get up. He had a couple of friends with him, and they were just about to call the fire department. He said that maybe I should call him back later . . . . So that was an odd conversation, what there was of it. Facebook thoughtfully sent me a memory--my mother at her last birthday, March 10 in 2019, two months before she died. I took advantage of Wol's absence to call Queenie and check in with her, because I knew she'd be having similar thoughts. After supper I called Wol back. It was a long story. But he was back at his son's house where he lives now, apparently none the worse for wear. We had an extended, disjointed chat that was all very well except for the hour of my life that I'll never get back. Too many conversations for a person who was under the influence of powerful drugs within the last 36 hours. Think I'll go to bed now.
