After a night of little to no sleep, as ya’ do when your mind won’t shut down, I finally dressed about 5:00 a.m., would have killed for the diet coke that taunted me from the fridge which was forbidden to me, and by 6:00 Monday morning was writing a really big check to a doctor about to operate on my eye.
It was cool outside, unusually cool, or maybe it just felt cooler because my nerves were more sensitive. If you haven’t been there, its difficult to describe what goes through your mind as you read (with one eye) all the complications that can arise. They don’t sink in at that moment, especially when the doctors disagree over the type of anesthetic.
The operating table was cold. Those parts which have a tendency to be exposed with a hospital gown were freezing. The IV that was put into my arm was freezing. It felt like liquid cold infusing my veins.
Then the smiling faces of the theretofore disagreeing doctors loomed over me to tell me everything would be fine.
When I woke up, I had a hard time remembering why I was there. The mummy bandages seemed strange, and the “gook” in my hair was completely foreign. I knew on some level that it was the solution with which they swabbed on all pertinent areas because I had a smudge of orange on my cheek. Betadine.
When I breathed consistently, and was sufficiently awake they sent me home with a list of instructions. Don’t move around too much, don’t bend over, stay in bed, don’t try to read. They made every effort to see I didn’t cough or throw up since it would put strain on their work.
Three more days now until the bandages come off. If you have never been faced with the possibility that the removal of mummy bandages might completely change your life, then you haven’t lived
I am a writer, a poet, and write from things I see with both eyes. What if I could only see out of one? What would you do if you knew you only had one more day to be the person you were before.
Would the world look different to you? Would the world look UPON you differently? All good questions.
Or if something else happened and you only had one day to say everything you wanted to say, what would it be?
What would your regrets be? What would your praises be? What would you have done differently, and what would you do now? More good questions.
Perhaps the model of a lesson that each day we live could be our last. That each day we live could be the last as we know it. A startling revelation that we don’t get to go back and fix the things that we did wrong, or that we would change. We always think we have more time.
So, we take the day to tell those who are important how much they mean to us. We take the day to squelch regrets and magnify praises. We take the day to say I love you to those we do, and to make amends to those we didn’t take the time to.
It is both a humbling and envigorating experience. The world will never be the same even if the outcome is the best. The reason? Because we had to think of the options.
A tale without an ending. But then we always think tomorrow will write the ending. It usually doesn’t..
ClairePowered by Sidelines