The eyes have it

Just another ho-hum Thursday. Larry and I started our day at 5:15, early for us but normal for those of you "morning people." My check-in time for outpatient cataract surgery was 6:00, for 7:30 surgery. Before I continue, I need to say that on a scale of 1 (low) to 10 (high), my anxiety over this event was 8.7549, although to be completely honest, Mary Jo's reassurance knocked it down a couple of points, or I'd have been nearly a 10. Hindsight (haha--don't waste your time making a joke about that word) tells me it should have been no higher than 1.001. The proof of will be tomorrow at my follow-up appointment, and then again when I order new glasses to replace my current prescription, which became obsolete in a flash today.

The over-all experience was positive, other than the anxiety part and having to wait a few weeks until my eyes correct for new glasses. The best part was a gadget that ISJ uses for patient comfort. The paper hospital gown I wore not only didn't leave my backside exposed to the world, it had special powers. This particular gown (Bear Paw brand, should you be interested) has a liner made of slightly softer paper than the outside later. There are several flaps on the gown for sticking various tubes and lines through, and one special flap that holds the end of flexible tubing that resembles the tubing on mid-century hair dryers. If you're as old as I am, you'll remember those things. If not, here's one for you to admire. Notice that a woman could knit while drying herr hair.

The hose that connects to the hospital gown is also connected to a gizmo that blows air through it and into the gown itself. It comes with a controller so the patient (me) can adjust the temperature for cool air or warm air, and lots of in-between settings. What a great concept! I want one for home use.

The one disappointment I'm dealing with is that the promised eye-patch turned out to be white, with openings for ventilation. I was led to believe, probably in my own mind, that I'd get a black pirate eye-patch, and maybe even a hook and a pegleg, if I stayed absolutely still during the surgery. Oh well. Maybe next time.

Now it's time for a nap.