Recovery

I'm okay. Eye surgery went well, recovery has been longer and more difficult than anticipated. I stay inside; the warm balmy sunshine of early February has turned cold and damp and blustery,.

I use warm compresses on my eyes. I read, I even filed my taxes online, I nap. I watch TV. I take baths. Jim babies me. I'm fine.

This was elective and cosmetic. It was way more than I bargained for, but it will be a distant memory  . . . soon. 

Meanwhile, there was another article in The Washington Post by Anne Lamott in her "Users Guide to Aging" series. She has a way of nailing the experience in all its gory veracity. I copied out the start of it, which hit home for me, but the full article bemoans the state of health care today.

Here's how she started:

Anyone who survived eighth-grade gym class believes that the worst is over, that it will all be downhill from that peak of vulnerability and mortification.

And then you get old.

For decades, the focused attention on raising families and/or yourself, all that competitive hustle, strive and fixation with appearances, provides a kind of carapace. You were always as vulnerable as kittens, but you could ignore it in your big-girl-in-charge years. Then, one day, you wake up and find yourself simultaneously invisible and exposed again. Maybe you’re not standing there in the locker room in your underpants, but you’re equally revealed to the world’s harsh, arrogant eyes.

Eyes? Did someone mention eyes? I had made peace with the decline of my eyes — the weakening vision, the saggy eyelids’ hostile takeover of the eyeball, the eight remaining lashes — until two years ago, when dry eye appeared. Dry eye in my case has meant symptoms too repulsive to go into here. 

So I made an appointment right away, and the ophthalmologist gave me a prescription to use twice a day, along with instructions to use over-the-counter eyedrops five times a day and gel drops at bedtime. 

Regrettably, I mostly forgot to do all this, or could not be bothered to, except for the prescription.

Curiously, the condition did not improve.

    . . . . The article goes on at length and humorously to detail the frustrating state of medical care today. I can't link to the full newsletter, it's a subscriber feature, but you know the story of health care in today's understaffed over-complicated insurance world.

I haven't had a major problem getting medical care and my eye surgery went without a hitch, but Jim, with his greater health needs and no obvious treatment solution, has been caught in the labyrinth of too few doctors, too many delays, and automatic insurance denials. 

Everyone in Santa Fe's medical system has been friendly and pleasant but the system everywhere is so convoluted and understaffed that it's impossible to navigate at times. 

And getting old in this system can be wretched. Anne Lamont gets it. Her advice when it all goes sideways: Breathe. 

And close your eyes.

👀