Eye surgery

It’s happening. I can’t put it off any longer. My twice-postponed eye surgery is at 7:30 tomorrow. It was scheduled first for December 21, but we would have had to go to Grapevine (a fur piece away) on the 22^nd, when we were trying to get out of town. Besides, I didn’t think it smart to have a fairly complicated (at least to me) surgery and leave town two days later. So it was rescheduled for January 4.

By then, I had developed a real, old-fashioned cold. I didn’t think it would be cool to cough or sneeze during the procedure, besides which I was sure they wouldn’t want me and my germs in the surgery suite. Rescheduled for February 1, which at the time seemed like far enough away to be safe.

But now it’s happening. The problem traces to cataract surgery from 1986. The lens implanted at that time has come loose and gone wandering in my eye. The doctor said it’s rare—so why me? —and happens most often with lens that have been in place for a long time. Jordan cannot bear to hear the details or talk about it and is most grateful her next up sibling, brother Jamie, will be here tonight to take me at six in the morning. Hips she can handle; eyes not so much. Since she’s squeamish, I’ll spare everyone else the details.

Yes, I’m nervous. But the intake person I talked to today was most reassuring. By late morning tomorrow I should be home with a patch over my eye. Patch will come off Friday morning. Meantime Jamie will spend the day tomorrow, and Megan will arrive in late afternoon to stay until early Saturday morning. My eye is not really bringing her up from Austin but the death of a good friend’s father, with visitation on Friday. For me, though, it will be delightful to have them both here.

Will this improve my vision instantly? I don’t think so, but I’ll have to wait and see.

Bad things come in threes—I have now had my three, with the hip, the afib hospital stay, and the eye. I am good for another twenty years at least.

‘Night all. I have to get up at five, so I’m going to bed very early, having told you more than you want to know about my eye.

Good News and a long day

Saw the hip surgeon today. It’s been one year plus about ten days since my surgery. He’s pleased with my progress, calls me a star patient. Said the hip is strong, securely in place—no, I still can’t cross my legs in a ladylike manner, and I should never pull my foot back to put on a shoe. As for the walker, he said he can fix the hip, but he can’t fix the brain connection about balance to my leg. I’ve never had good balance in all my life, partly I think due to my phobias (open space is a biggie for phobics, and I always when possible walk next to a wall or railing or something to hang on to) and partly reminiscent of what my mother once said to me: “I wish I’d given you ballet lessons. They would have made you graceful.” Thanks, Mom. Anyway, he said given my poor balance, he wants me on the walker rather than falling again. He complimented the way I came down the hall to his examining room and suggested I put less and less hand pressure on the walker, until I get to the point I’m just barely resting my fingers on it. Oh, and I’m to take up exercises again which I got out of the habit of over Christmas and never got back into. I promise to be a good camper.

The big good news out of this: he thinks I’m doing well enough that he doesn’t want to see me for a year. When I said I was embarrassed because most hip patients walk so soon after surgery, he said to forget it. My hip problem was one of a kind, and I shouldn’t compare myself to others. Good advice about hips and a lot of life.

So tonight, I’m working, with the TV on mute while Mr. Trump makes a speech. With the sound off and glancing occasionally at his facial expressions, I think he’s almost coquettish. But all those people who jump to their feet in applause frustrate me. I of course find less to applaud with this man than previous presidents, but it’s always been an irritation. I’m keeping it on because I want to hear Joe Kennedy’s response. As for having to look at Pence and Ryan sitting behind the president, don’t even go there….

The Burtons have all gone to the rodeo tonight. Our annual family rodeo weekend kind of fell apart this year, so they went so that Jacob would get one night at the rodeo. I’ve worked, gotten a lot done, napped, and eaten smoked salmon for supper—how decadent. Sophie and I are enjoying our quiet evening at home. Well, at least I am, and I’m being bold enough to speak for her.

Eye surgery day after tomorrow, but then I’ll have all the major stuff behind me—knock on wood. Yes, I’m anxious about the eye business, but I keep telling myself it will be Friday before I know it and it will be over and done with. I’m not afraid of the surgery. I’m afraid of being anxious about being anxious. Three of my four children will be here, either for the surgery or sometime that day, so that’s a cheering thought.

In my list of things I’ve done and good things that have happened to me in yesterday’s post, I left out health matters. But tonight and always I am grateful for the health I have and the care I have gotten for major problems. I think back to just over a year ago and what pain I had from my hip, and I feel like a new person.

This “new” person is getting sleepy. Hope the orange man doesn’t go on too long and Joe Kennedy comes on soon. ‘Night all.

Nothing new

No blog tonight or not much of one. It has been an uneventful day although productive. Home all day, working on neighborhood newsletter and novel and moving ahead nicely with both. I’ve had a brief visit from Jordan, who is not feeling well and stayed home all day, and a slightly longer visit from Jacob who came out this morning to retrieve his leftover pizza from last night and again this evening to take out garbage and do a few “straightening” chores I needed done before tomorrow morning when a video crew arrives to film me for a promotional video for my hip surgeon and his hospital. More about that after the fact.

The video should be fun, but I had other lessons today in how medical problems take up my time. I had an appointment already to see my general physician about a spot on my back that I fear needs to come out—sent a photo to the doctor, and he said to come in and they’d remove it So today I called to ask if they could also do my clearance for eye surgery at that appointment, and I ran into what I think of as the reception-area block. Oh, no, the doctor couldn’t possibly do that. He’d look at the spot and if it needed to come out, I’d have to make another appointment, and he couldn’t possibly combine it with the surgical clearance appointment. I’d have to come in one day for blood work and then come back for the exam. Let’s see—that’s five appointments, right? I explained that I cannot drive and must rely on others and that was a lot of doctor appointments and a terrible imposition on those who carry me around. The receptionist reluctantly said she’d explain to the doctor and ask if it was all right. I told her he was more than familiar with my situation—I’ve spent half the fall in his office, for pity’s sake—he’d need no explanation. She called back with word it would be okay.

All this came about because my eye surgery is now scheduled for December 21. Awful close to Christmas, but I guess it will be fine. I have mixed emotions—want it done in December to get it off my mind and to roll it into other medical expenses for this year since I think I’ll qualify for the medical deduction, which may well go away next year. But having a definite date gives me the willies. Yes, I want it done and over with. Last night I couldn’t read the menu or the bill in a dim restaurant, and then, because my depth perception is off, I poured wine onto the counter instead of into the glass.

But other than these non-adventures, to me it’s been a day to make my heart heavy. The congressional vote for the tax bill was not unexpected but it still hurts—it will hurt me, but it will hurt a lot of others much more, and I worry about the poor and sick. Congress has struck a double blow—taxes and health care, and Paul Ryan is jubilant. Betsy DeVos has taken away protections for disabled students, and 45 has struck down the ban on importing ivory, thus opening the way for poachers and his own big-game hunting sons—another of his distractions from the Russia scandal which tonight threatens to engulf Jared Kushner. Al Franken has been accused of harassment; he apologized and called for an investigation of himself—but the Republicans are out for blood. I’m sure outspoken Franken has been a thorn in their sides all along, and they see a chance to get rid of him.

And they may be concerned about Roy Moore—he would be an inconvenience, after all—but are totally unconcerned about all the women who have come forward again today to accuse 45 or about 45’s own braggart confessions of groping and other gross details. The hypocrisy on Capitol Hill is appalling.

I echo the blogger who said tonight he is deeply ashamed of his country. Where have these people come from? How have we sunk so low?

I hope to have my optimism back tomorrow, but now I’ll just say goodnight. Try to love each other and pray for our enemies within.