It wouldn’t dare! I thought, but just to be on the safe side I went back to my retina specialist as soon as his office opened after the holiday.
“You have another detached retina,” he said. “Do you have someone here to drive you home? We’ll repair it now, just like we did before.”
Well, of course I didn’t have a driver. That would have been admitting that I might really have a problem. So once again I had to call a daughter to come and chauffeur me home. And once again I got fussed at for not telling my daughters that I was having a problem. (I think that’s why grandparents and teens get along so well; we’re both always in trouble with the same parents.)
I’d forgotten about the foot-long (or so it seemed) hypodermic needle, the frozen face afterwards and the deep eye pain. But soon I remembered it all. And once again I lived through it.
My writing was interrupted for a while as were other pleasant routines of my life, but finally I was nearing the end. I’m even almost finished with my steroid drops. Once again I have my sight restored and am feeling grateful. This time because I only have TWO eyes!
Hugs to all my reader and writer friends,