Now you know I’m uneasy about my upcoming eye surgery and so I appreciate the kind people who have given support. My neighbor is one of those kind people. To the extent, that last week, when her Mother came for a visit, she called me up and put her Mother on the phone to give me her cataract surgery testimonial.
Truth is, I really didn’t want to discuss it, but what could I say? ‘Cause you see I was doing pretty well up to this point. With only a few weeks to go, I found that circumventing thoughts into other channels was the best way to escape my fear. So I kept my mind firmly planted in the crease of refusing-to-think-about-it. With pre-opt conditions (dental and physical health check behind me), thankfully there is no reason to return to thinking about it, until the scheduled day of surgery.
I know the neighbor had the best of intentions when she put her Mother on the phone. And her Mother, though she doesn’t know me from Adam, was more than a little flattered to tell me the ‘really important stuff’ that she was quite certain I didn’t know. Things I would never think of (which as I said previously, is okay with me).
So she told me what was ‘really, really important’. That for six weeks or more after surgery I must not sew, knit, crochet, read, watch TV, or use the computer. That’s when the darkness began closing in and my present life of watching CNN while playing computer games, reading blogs, and writing blog posts flashed before me.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Just wait a minute here. This is a lot to digest. This goes way beyond my fear and anxious foreboding. Now I am really upset. Isn’t that what I do each day? Is there anything she missed? Seems like not. And that rapidly scrolling thought of all those things in my current life? That’s not a good thing either.
So I was close to tears when I got off the phone and turned to Hub.
“Oh my God, Hub, do you know what I have to do for six weeks or more after surgery?”
“What?” he said, with bewilderment, no doubt thinking it must be some undignified, ghastly, painful routine. And if that’s what he was thinking, he was right.
“For six weeks or more all I can do is sweep or mop floors, vacuum, iron, do laundry, shovel snow, re-organize cupboards or closets, bath the dog, clean the basement. How depressing is THAT???”
And you know what Hub did? That man who I thought would always be there for me?
He said, “Good! Very Good! And when are they going to do your other eye?”