I have orders. Wear the tea strainer to bed for one week.
Wear the wrap arounds to step out.
Use three different drops eight times a day.
Weekly appointments. At the third week the doctor will measure for the corrective glasses lens. I did not spend the extra thousand something for the lens to correct my awful astigmatism as I still need reading glasses. I have worn glasses for the last sixty three years; too late to change. Not to mention, the corresponding extra thousand something for the other eye. I’m coming out ahead here.
The magnificent staff piled on hot blankets yesterday. When the doctor remarked the nurse said they stopped when I no longer regretted leaving my down comforter at home. I heard the doctor chuckle.
I heard everything. I saw red and blue, yellow and green in the bright lights. I heard the doctor say “This pupil is just too small; I need to use a spring.”
“Wow. A spring. How neat,” my placid self observed.
In the middle of the night I woke up. Did he take it out?
Another chuckle today. “Of course I did.”
“What was that stuff?”
“It’s like valium. No, it’s like propofal. No, darn, I just blocked on it.”
As soon as my right eye sees properly, the left one gets it. The right eye is arguing with the left over which will process color, only a few hours post tea strainer. My sister says that would make her crazy. It is interesting to see the electric blue office scrubs of the clinic staff suddenly have a patch of muddy blue swim across. They weren't electric blue last week, I can tell you that.