by harrywelty | Posted on September 20, 2015
It’s often said that God doesn’t give anyone any more than they can handle. Well, back on Wednesday (Countdown day 49) She tested me. I woke up with intense pain in my right eye whenever I opened it. When I could finally endure a little light the poor little red thing shed tears copiously. I had a lot of plans for the day, which mostly got shelved, but somehow I managed to face the blue screen of my computer and cranked out that day’s blog offering.
Claudia was off most of the morning doing good deeds and I needed to get an idea for lawnsigns over to Loren Martell. He’s not always easy to reach by phone so I decided to drive over to his house and stick my suggestion in his back door. That proved to be quite a challenge made worse because I drove off without wearing sunglasses.
I parked a couple blocks away due to street construction and bravely and half blindly threaded my way on foot up his alley. I was in luck. Between brief winks I saw him heading toward his car and called out his name. It turned out he has a better idea for a sign but we had a long conversation about campaigning that he didn’t have time for while I kept my eyes shut. I’m afraid he found me a little unnerving. After I finally left him to make up his lost time, I made my way back home without mishap. (He called me later that night fearful that I was blind and I told him I was fine.)
I should have called a doctor there and then but I figured in my dimwitted manliness that it would all blow over so I’d wait to see how things were the next day. Somehow I slept through the night and woke up without the intense pain or light sensitivity but with cloudy vision in my right eye. I cranked out one hasty post with a promise to readers that I would proofread and edit it. I’m not sure I’ll keep that promise.The next day, Friday, I made a call for a Doctor’s appointment. Claudia, whose days in Human Resources makes her very savvy, told me I’d never get to an ophthalmologist without a family doctor’s intervention. Since my cloudy vision did seem fairly consequential I made an appointment as she advised.
Instead of politicking I mostly spent the day in waiting rooms. My morning’s appointment with a family practitioner led to a 1:45 appointment with an eye doctor in the early afternoon. I had enough time between doctor’s visits to show up and sling hash at the soup kitchen with my church crowd. I was in a pretty jovial mood and sang happily away as I served up pork loin and noodles with cream of mushroom soup.
Claudia picked me up and took me to the ophthalmologist in the Medical Arts building downtown at 1:45. The eyes were really having it that Friday. The waiting room was packed. Claudia told me that it was a little unsettling to see the other patients enter the exam rooms and disappear through our three hour stay. If I hadn’t been worried about going blind I might just have picked up and left. Everyone else present was worried about their vision too so I found myself sitting with a clutch of women trapped like me with dilated optics. After two hours I told my fellow waiters that we were at the point when we needed to start singing “100 bottles of beer on the wall.” That got a chuckle. Half an hour later I found myself waiting in a nearby exam room for another ten minutes with my fellow waiters down the hall waiting their turns. I softly sang “one hundred bottles of beer on the wall – One hundred bottles of beer.” A good laugh traveled up the hallway.
With a prescription in hand Claudia and I left for our next wait in the pharmacy. We were home by five and I began a regimen of antibiotic eye drops and dilating eye drops which will continue until late Monday when the Doctor will have another look to see if my poor infected cornea is on the mend. Oh, the political machinations continue but keeping up with them countdown style just hasn’t been in the cards. I ought to go back and touch up the last post but my head isn’t quite in the game.
Yesterday, Saturday, I helped my daughter pick four bushels of apples off of her tree and plan to spend this afternoon making cider. I’m not sacrificing family time in my dotage, not even to save the Duluth Schools. I will say, however, that had I not been required to wear sunglasses in yesterday’s bright sunniness I would have been out asking neighbors to put up Alanna Oswald’s lawnsigns. I just couldn’t bring myself to go up to the doors of folks and ask their help while looking like a secret service agent. That would have been a little off putting.
My eyesight should be up to snuff soon enough so I won’t likely have to wear an eye patch. That’s sort of a shame. Yesterday was “Talk like a Pirate Day” and I kind of liked the idea of a little swashbuckling.
Oh yeah, I went to Chester Bowl’s Fall fest yesterday with my grandsons. I saw Dr. Kirby there at a campaign table and walked over to introduce myself. I didn’t bring up my earlier request for us to get together over coffee but did tell him that come January we might both become “boon companions” on the School Board.
Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of rum.
978 words
