Today Is the Present

Sat., June 2, 02:02 PM

Yesterday was history,
Tomorrow is a mystery,
But today is a gift.
That's why it's called
The present!

Yesterday, as I mentioned, I had an appointment with the retina specialist. “You have two problems,” he said. “I have lots of problems,” I responded. “Two problems with your eyes,” he amended. Actually, the news is more good than bad.

The doctor believes everything is fixable. I have fast-growing cataracts, but they can be removed surgically. I have a deformed retina in my left eye, but not macular degeneration.

He believes that he can remove some of the scar tissue once the cataract is out of the way. And…he gave me a prescription for those eye drops. (I always wondered why my glasses worked so much better in the doctor's office than anywhere else.) He set up a tentative course of action:

  1. Use the eye drops to help the right eye.
  2. See the cataract surgeon for evaluation.
  3. Have the cataracts removed from the left eye.
  4. Then the retina doctor will do surgery to try to return some vision to the left eye.
  5. If necessary, have cataracts removed from the right eye. (We will have time to see whether the drops continue to give sufficient relief.)
The best present I could get: He did say, “you are not going blind.”

I should explain something I mentioned in passing. Just in case you're curious.

The Cheesebox is on a dead-end street, with houses on just one side — there are people who tend to think it's a good place to dump stuff. A few mornings ago, I looked out the front door and saw some strange-looking trash across the street.

When I went to pick it up, I realized that, along with the rubbish, there were some papers of a type that I personally would rather shred. (There were a lot of ATM envelopes, which had scattered in an unusual pattern.) I couldn't read them, naturally, so I brought them indoors for U.D. to look at. A car registration. An auto insurance ID. They seemed current. First thought: phone the person whose name is on the papers. On second thought (result of a legal background): these could be evidence of a domestic dispute.

U.D. looked further. There were blank checks. There was an international driver's license. This was not just emptying a glovebox. Someone was “making a statement.” U.D. called the police and gave the responding officer the papers, along with an explanation. I feel it was the right thing to do.

On the one hand, I am not happy that the cops know where we are, so to speak. On the other hand, it is good to know that they are readily available to come and help.

A couple of hours later, my new fridge was delivered. And finally, that evening, Husband noticed that it was not the same one he had seen before. So tell me, how do you define blind?

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