Since I last appeared here on screen, I have led an eventful life.
Last Tuesday, I was in bed, minding my own business at 7 am, about to listen to the news. It was warm and cosy and snuggly, and I had a day of stuff planned. Like aquazumba. And then I heard the news announcer say "Here is the news for Tuesday 7th October..."
No..... Wednesday is supposed to be the 7th October.
So I grabbed the phone. The newsreader was right.
Cue Linds bolting out of bed as fast as possible, bed clothes flying, screeching, "Diana wake up! Wake Up! We are late!"
Panicked slithering down the stairs while throwing on clothes. I tried to call the hospital, but no-one answered the phone, so we leapt into the car and roared off.
We arrived at 7.30, and presented ourselves at the reception desk for the day surgery ward, and the consultant in the corner said - "But you are only due in by 12 noon."
Oh, give me strength.
I had spent the previous month dithering about whether or not to have the cataract op I was scheduled to have. So many other factors to consider, including the orthopaedic op Diana is about to have, other medical appointments, the increased level of CRPS due to the dithering and stress, more medical matters to consider and appointments stacking up as well, not being able to drive, graduation, Mum, Sister, house, the lot.
And it was getting worse by the day. The dithering.
I wanted it all to go away. To cancel it. Actually, it would have been great if some medical power had just said "We will do it in a year's time." Or something.
So we came home, and Diana suggested I have my hair done because afterwards would be rather tricky, avoiding the bending forward or water in the eye scenario. So I spent the morning happily having the hair coiffed.
By midday, I was back in the eye unit with all the other octogenarians. Seriously. Everyone was old and doddery. Oh, wait.......
After the eye dilating drops, I hauled out the latest ripple blanket for my footstool for Autumn (next year), and rippled away for 3 and a half hours. I was starving. So was Diana, who was in another hospital building, having her pre-op assessment at the same time. We should have had lunch.
I was last in, and JUST on the point of getting up, announcing that I had changed my mind, and departing when they came to call me. Actually, the rather large male nurse and ditto anaesthetist came to collect me. I suspect running away was futile at that point, so I was as good as gold, and ended up on the
slab operating table for the eye paralysis thingy. Not pleasant, but survivable.
The not survivable thing was the fact that the nurses, surgeon, whoever, did not place and seal the blue
jay cloth sheet over my face correctly. There was no seal. So, when they started the procedure, for which there is constant pouring of liquid of some sort, for a full 20-30minutes, it poured down my face, into my ear and into a puddle closely resembling a swamp under my head.
You hold the hand of a nurse for the duration of the op, and if you need to cough or speak or move, you squeeze the hand. So I squeezed. "She squeezed" said the nurse. They stopped. I asked if it was normal to have liquid bubbling out of my ear and to be lying in a puddle. Oops, they said, and carried on. Exactly the same way as before.
I got more furious by the second. And yes, I do know, and I said as much to the staff afterwards - that it was totally irrational to be so enraged about the fact that my hair and top were drenched with unknown fluid, and that the nurse had to wring the water out of my hair when I sat up. And I was absolutely thankful that I had a new lens and would be able to see better. I can say that the nurse and anaesthetist afterwards were lovely. They said it shouldn't have happened, that it doesn't happen as a rule. And that a rolled up towel would have solved the problem.
So, by the time Diana came to collect me, I had calmed down about 1 degree (is there a degree symbol for this keyboard?) and I had a cup of coffee and a couple of biscuits to eat (tiny cookies), so we left with a list of instructions. She, the gem, had a sandwich waiting in the car for me. Bliss.
Anyway, the fury subsided once hunger was abated, and a redo of the hair on the following morning solved the scarecrow look.
Sleeping with a plastic eye patch is different. The pirate look is not really foe me. Only for 10 days, though.
So. This past week, I have tried, and failed to follow the rules. No heavy lifting. No garden. No allotment. No dirty environment. No rubbing of eyes.
Seriously, I try. Take last Thursday for example. The wind was blowing and I heard some crashing about. The water butt in the front drive had blown over and was heading for the road, so I went and retrieved it. And its lid. Then I went to get a couple of buckets of water to pour into it and anchor it down. Heavy. While I was waiting in the garden for the bucket to fill, I noticed some ripe tomatoes, which I went to pick. And then I realised that I had broken all the rules, so rushed back inside, and scrubbed ten layers off the hands to kill germs.
And sat down in the chair and twiddled my thumbs. Got tired, so rubbed my eyes.
I am beyond hope, people. Nothing was intentional. All instinct. I need to wear that patch 24 hours. And to have my hands tied behind my back. Or immobilised somehow. My eye is coping so far. Thank the Good Lord.
So we have drops to drop in. Well, when you do your own, you miss 2 then get one to hit the target. I will be going through a couple of bottles at this rate. 4 a day for a week, then 3, then 2 then 1. Hah. It will be a miracle if the bottle lasts much longer.
Diana has been my chauffeur when needed, and I will be driving again soon. It is amazing how much clearer the world is once the cataract is gone. However, my left eye is struggling to build new neural pathways, and is trying to compensate for the "lost" eye, and this is taking a little time. Balance is also begin re-calibrated. That will be a CRPS issue. We will get there. New glasses in 5 weeks now.
Anyway. Right now, Diana should be having the op on her leg, but it was postponed late yesterday afternoon, and we have no idea when it will be rescheduled. The not knowing is a really rough thing for her. She was all geared up for today. This family could do without hospitals featuring front and centre for a while.
That misbehaving radiator? It will have to be replaced. Again.