seeing differently

 I had my follow-up appointment with my eye doctor this morning and things are looking good,  The vision in my left eye is now 20/50 and there may still be some more improvement.  Considering that my vision in that eye was previously 20/250 my doctor and I are both really, really happy about this.  But here's an interesting side effect that I hadn't been expecting.  A friend who had cataract surgery recently mentioned that colors were different now, so I decide to check it out. I have spent quite a bit of time this evening looking at the TV and other objects, first with one eye and then with the other (I've told you before, I'm easily entertained) and I discovered there really is a remarkable difference.  With my new lens things look clear and whites look very bright, then with my old eye everything has a yellowish cast.  It's hard to describe but there really is a very dramatic difference.  So now I'm wondering, what if I don't like the new true colors of my clothes.  I might have to go buy a whole new wardrobe.  And the down side is?????

the deed is done.

 Well, I had my first cataract surgery today and my reward was pizza this evening.  The last word I heard as the procedure was finishing was my doctor saying 'perfect.'  Always a good sign.   I'm always intrigued by the questions they ask before the procedure.  I'm pretty sure I was asked my name at least 27 times by different staff persons followed by my date of birth.  Do they really think someone else is going to sneak in and take my place?  The question I was most concerned about though was "Which eye are we doing today?"  The doctor even put a sticky dot on the left side of my forehead.  Did they think I might change my mind half way through?  Over and over and over again I was asked which eye?  I'm happy to report they did operate on the correct one and the results seem good.  In three weeks the right eye will be the right eye.  

a recommendation

 i watched a TV show this evening that I have only watched once before but I'm developing a real interest in it.  The show is on PBS and it's called "Finding Your Roots."  This evening the people whose ancestors were identified were Norah Roberts, Nancy Pelosi and a clothing designer whose name I don't remember.  There were some interesting surprises like a great grandmother who had traveled from Ireland to the US alone when she was 12, and a great, great grandmother who, as a 19 year old widow, won a lawsuit and compensation from her husband's employer because her husband was killed in a work accident.  It was a landmark case in Ireland.  I was intrigued by the surprise the host showed that all three of the guests this evening had ancestors who had immigrated from somewhere in Europe.  I don't know why he seemed so surprised.  Every white person I know has ancestors that came here from somewhere else.  I mean, unless you're Native American what are the options?  The biggest surprise though was when the host, a black man, revealed to Norah that they are related by DNA.  His Irish grandfather was a cousin of Norah's great great somebody.  Anyway, it's a fun show to watch.

Be careful what you read.

 On Wednesday morning I'm having cataract surgery and I admit to a little anxiety, but not much.  After all it's only one eye, this time, and I can't see much out of it anyway.  That is, I wasn't feeling very anxious until I started reading through all the paperwork this evening.  I was actually ok with the form until I came to the paragraphs on possible complications. Yikes, it's quite a list.  You know those ads on TV for prescription medications?  If you listen carefully to all the possible side effects you wonder why anyone would ever risk taking Xyzqa or whatever it is.  Of course I am going to go ahead with the surgery and will sign the form.  I'm not even going to Google the definition of 'uveitis.'  

a lazy afternoon

 Traditionally Sunday afternoons are a time for relaxing and I like to honor traditions.  So this afternoon, after a really good couch church service, I stretched out on my bed with the newspaper, some computer games and a good book while Rhoda, my Roomba, happily vacuumed my bedroom. At least she seemed happy.  She buzzed right along, back and forth and round and round, doing a thorough job of cleaning under the dressers and under the bed and everywhere else.  After an hour and fifteen minutes she told me her battery was low so I put her back in her charging station.  True confession.  When I emptied her little bin I was appalled at how much yuck she had accumulated.  I know I'm not the world's greatest housekeeper but I didn't think I was that bad.  I assume the dust came from all those under bed and under dresser spaces where my regular vacuum cleaner doesn't quite reach.  That's my story and I'm sticking too it.  It will be interesting to see if there is less the next time around.  I love my Christmas toy!  Now if I could just teach it to dust shelves.

freezing

 Yesterday I had an appointment with a dermatologist.  It was my first ever baseline all over check for possible skin cancer.  Since my father, who worked outside most of his life, developed some little cancerous spots on his face when he got older I decided it wouldn't hurt to be checked out.  After an embarrassingly thorough check up all over my body it was determined that I had two little pre-cancerous spots on my forehead.  Really not worth taking my clothes off for.  The nurse practitioner whipped out his little ray gun and zapped both spots with a freezing ray.  I was told that after a day or two scaly patches would develop and gradually everything would fall off including the troublesome little bumps.  This morning, right on schedule, one spot had developed the promised scaly surface.  The other one. however, still felt just like it always had.  I was beginning to wonder if the NP had missed his shot.  However, by this evening, the second spot has become satisfyingly scaly.  I'm so glad that no one will see me except by Zoom for the next few days.  In case you're wondering why I bothered to share this less that monumental physical adventure today it was either that or celebrate National Static Electricity Day.  

Happy birthday

 1935 was a very good year.  Elvis Presley, my first heartthrob, was born on January 8, 1935.  My first husband and true love was born on February 7, 1935.  One summer,  after we dropped our children off at  Space Camp, my husband and I were heading further south to spend the week in Gulf Shores.  On the way, since we weren't in any hurry, we took a detour through Tupelo, Mississippi to see Elvis's birthplace.  It wasn't open that day but we did drive past.  I don't know what I was expecting, but it just looked so little and normal, like the houses in the small town of my childhood.  From what friends have told me, if I want to see the glitz and glamor that was Elvis in his later years I need to go to Graceland.  I'm not sure I'll ever make that trip but I did see his gold plated Cadillac at the Country Music Hall of Fame Museum in Nashville.  It's not really all gold plated, just the handles and other trim, which still makes it pretty glitzy.  I actually saw Elvis perform once, right here in Fort Wayne, Indiana in 1957.  He was young then, and handsome and alive and I was sure he was singing right to me. Sweet memories.