New Day

I am awash in feeling blessed this morning. For one thing, my eye is NOT awash, which is to say, yesterday was the last day of eye drops I had to take every day for the last month since my cataract surgery. In the week immediately following the operation, you do drops more than six times a day. I had three little bottles. I had to stop whatever I was doing, lie down, do one drop in my eye --- wait 3 minutes -- do the next drop -- wait 3 minutes -- do the next drop -- wait 3 minutes. Doesn't sound like a big deal, but it reminded me of breastfeeding schedules, which when you read them BEFORE you have a baby sound reasonable, but once you have your baby, you suddenly realize, "Oh, I get it, I'm going to spend every minute of every day breastfeeding this baby!"

So after a week of three drops six times a day, you go to a week of four times a day and then a week later you go to two times a day. This was a very weird transition -- unexpectedly difficult -- by the time you've done this intense two weeks of drops almost at every meal time, to cut back to twice a day makes you feel very confused, sad, a little thrown off, you MISS your drops -- it's so odd. So week three is twice a day -- you realize you're healing, you're getting back to normal -- and even this makes me feel different -- maybe it was kindof special to be the "patient" and get special attention from family and friends, or at least some sympathy -- but now you're on the road to normal. You should be thrilled, but just as the new mom starts weaning her baby eventually, you lose a special status in the world.

And after twice a week, you go to that most strange last week of once a day eye drops. You've been carrying around three little bottles everywhere for a month and now the three little companions are about to desert you -- for your excellent eye sight -- as they should and as you should be more than happy to welcome, but life is a funny moody roller coaster, isn't it and even blessings can be mixed.

And you might have noticed how little I have written about my new eye. And there's a very big reason. Just as my first eye's improvement was so dramatic and I was gushing daily about it, this second eye's improvement as been ALSO extraordinary. But it has taken me down a path much more difficult to walk. My eyesight is so good now, I am seeing things that I just don't want to see. I am seeing very line, wrinkle, blotchy mark, scar of every face I encounter -- especially mine -- and that is sobering I must say. Sometimes it's not beautiful.

When I got eye number one fixed I went from terrible sight to a front row seat at a deliciously beautiful and colorful circus. I was seeing Cirque de Soleil from the best seats in the house. When I got eye number two fixed, I found myself backstage in their makeup trailer, seeing every imperfection of their faces before they applied their makeup, every slight unraveling or tear of their pretty costumes, every old clown trying to look young, every terrified grimace (usually hidden) when an acrobat makes a landing the audience never sweats but the team knows is viciously difficult and could result in harm. I am WAY up close.

It's not easy to get used to, but finally, I admit, it is a blessing in disguise. It lets me see a real world; a real world of work and worry, of disappointments and tears, but also of real love and real hope and real people. I guess that's the best word to use -- real -- my new eye says, "get real" and real isn't so easy every day -- but what it might lack in shimmering fantasy and trompe l'oeil artistry, it more than makes up for in truth.

I live in a world of bumps and scratches and arrive newly born, nearly age 50, with my old face in the mirror, wonderfully blessed to see the world as it is, and tell the tale.