baby grand(est)son uses duct tape to fix translucent eye
As mentioned last week, cataract surgery was on the cards for this week. As I read about the process, I realized…
“This is not so easy, Nazy!” I exclaimed. “It will require super-human effort.”
“Super-human?”
“Luckily, my dear, I qualify.”
“What effort, Dan?”
“I can’t eat or drink anything after midnight the day of the operation.”
“So?”
“Don’t be a simpleton,” I thought. “So, Nazy, since it is the day before the operation, we should eat late. Dessert should be served right before midnight.” I said, stating the obvious.
While I was thinking about food (or the lack thereof), Melika was teaching young Tiger to stand.
As you can well imagine, I was a hungry and thirsty guy when I arrived at the surgical center. The check-in process was as smooth as possible in land of malpractice suits.
The check-in clerk asked the first cheery question: “Do you have a life statement?”
“Life statement?” I replied. “Of course. I like life.”
“I mean life directive.”
“Happiness. I direct my life toward happiness.”
“I’ll just put down ‘no’.” the clerk sighed.
“It has to do with being resuscitated in case they kill you,” the guy next to me whispered.
“I am here for cataract surgery, right?” I asked. “I hope you’re not going to kill me.” I thought.
As I signed my name several times it became clear that they were worried about killing me. I had to promise that I wouldn’t sue but would pay, wouldn’t drive myself home, but would pay, wouldn’t sue, hadn’t eaten and wouldn’t sue (but would pay) even if I died. (It was easy to agree to that - but I sent a text to Nazy reminding her that she had not agreed to avoid any law suit.
Then they put a giant yellow sticker onto my eyebrow over my LEFT eye. (Mistakes not tolerated.)
The operation was performed by a family friend. I was awake and helping throughout.
“Helping?” Nazy asked.
“Of course. I kept my eye open while Mike performed the..”
“Big deal, Dan.” Nazy interrupts.
“Try keeping your eye open when somebody comes at it with a knife.” I replied, thinking back to the event.
“I’m going to tape your eyelid open,” Mike had said.
“In the spirit of complete transparency, Nazy,” I continued. “I didn’t keep my eye open all by myself. Mike used duct tape to..”
“Duct tape?”
“Yes. For my tear ducts. But I did help. When he said to move my eye right or left, I did.”
“You were sooo brave. And you’re not even complaining about that silly eye patch.”
“I was hoping that I’d get a pirate’s patch. Unfortunately, this almost transparent bluish thing makes me look dorky.”
Everything went splendidly. I can already see better out of the LEFT eye. Mike said that he had used a small stitch that might feel like grit for a week; it felt like grit for a couple of hours. Reading has proven to be a challenge. During recovery, the new eye is dilated and drugged to prevent one from focusing on nearby things like words on a page. It also leads to depth perception issues: when I interact with the keyboard, it looks like my hands are different distances from my body. This happens even though the left lens of my glasses has been removed. I’ve discovered that it’s much easier to keep the view through the glasses clear when the lens is gone. As Nazy noted earlier, I have a lot in common with Steven Hawking. Both of us have trouble keeping glasses lenses clean.
Luckily depth perception problems don’t cause me any problems because I touch type.
Flashback
Carteret High School
“You will thank me,” my Mom insisted. It is always good to know how to type.
“None of my friends are in the typing course, Mom. That’s in the ‘business stream’. I’m in ‘college prep’. The only people in the typing class are girls.”
I paused while my Mom looked at me wondering whether I would see the light.
“Perhaps Mother knows best in this case,” I replied. I enrolled in Mr. Rozzelle’s class.
Objectively, I was a poor typist: Lightening fast - but only before the deductions for errors. Subjectively, I was simply ahead of my time. “Someone needs to invent a delete key and an auto correction feature,” I thought at the time.
End Flashback
Full recovery (and full functionality on the improved eye) will take a few weeks. There is a complex medication regime that spans those weeks. Luckily..
“We have experience with complicated regimes,” I explained to Nazy. “We mastered the recycling processes in Zurich.”
Mastered?”
“When my right eye is fixed next week, we’ll have so many eye drops that we’ll need a Turing machine to keep up. Luckily, my Ph.D. thesis featured a Universal Turing machine. We can just reprogram the recycling system I wrote for Switzerland. The cardboard, newspaper, garden waste, glass (white, green, brown), aluminum, plastic, clothes, shoes, rubble, masonry, cat litter, radioactive materials…”
“We never had any radioactive materials,” Nazy interrupts.
“Do not confuse me with facts when I am on a roll. The point is simple. The pile of different eyedrops and different schedules is easily encompassed by our recycle system from Switzerland.”
In sum: the operation went extremely well: the left side of my world is already brighter than the right. And the other eye fix is planned for Wednesday.
The grand(est)son caught his first cold this week. He was coughing and wheezing. Nazy suggested that we take it easy but..
“Melika told me that I shouldn’t baby him.” Nazy explained.
“But I am a baby!” Young Tiger thought. “Maybe I should cry to remind them.”
“I thought babying him was our job as grandparents,” I replied as I pre-chewed his banana.
“Melika thinks we may be over-doing it.”
“I like coming here,” Young Tiger thought.
To see last week's letter, click here
Tiger likes flowers