Fear or Relief?

The dates are set and the eyes are apprehensively ready. It's a funny thing - a sense of relief melded into a wad of fear about the repairs.

One thing's for certain - I will either continue to see double or I will not. How absolute is that? Medicine and the human body are interesting in what's predicted and known by repetitive procedure and what this variable, this completely adaptable, ever-changing dynamic system we call our body is capable of doing. It's like algebra: the integer + the X variable = some sort of outcome, hopefully the one that is supposed and known.

I thought it ironic that the day after I return from a writing retreat I will have my left eye sliced open. I'm hoping that this first surgery will give me a bit of fodder from which to grow my writing brain. As it stands, the sigh imbued with the angst is enough for me to scrawl something here.

Right eye will be three and a half weeks later: plenty of time to adjust, get rid of my left eye patch and resume the right eye pirated look for Gay Pride! Now that's a look most people won't have! Aaaarr!

It's scary, though, just thinking about having my eyes operated on. I know it's for the better, and I know that I'll garner relief at some point, but, honestly, I have some fear of these procedures. No, not that a mistake will be made and I'll end up blind in one eye. For some reason, I've made amends with this option, or so I think; my rational mind knows that all will be okay, my not-so-rational mind keeps jerking those thoughts around not unlike when we jolt a pinball machine to thwart the gravitied roll of the ball. It's difficult to explain. And it exists probably, in part, because I've no one with whom to share this gelatinous sense of stability. Despite the likelihood of a positive outcome, the jitters remain.

Ideally, my headaches will subside. Ideally, the double vision will ease up. Ideally, the dizziness and lightheadedness will fade into the sunset. Ideally, my vision will improve to the level of the average person and I will, at last, release my clutches on my severe myopia, although still have to wear some sort of lenses for clear vision. Ideally, all will sail through under the laser's incision, the opthalmologists hands, and the new lens(es) with the same ease and swiftness that the average senior citizen receives when they have a simpler, shaved-down cataract surgery. Ideally, all will be better.

I think I need to reflect upon a blog I posted a while back and truly partake: breathe and release. Breathe and release. I have had to let go of so much that I believed in and hoped for this past year, I suppose that I need to let go of some of this unstable uncertainty, too.

Breathe in relief, release the fear. Breathe and release.