Ten-Finger Exercises

connecting

I didn't get back last night to post the picture because I started seeing flashing lights in my left eye. At first I thought it was a little bug flying fast past me, although it isn't the season for bugs. About the fourth time it happened, I decided I was "seeing things" and I Googled for information.

In the past, although not recently, I've experienced interoccular migraines, where I see the aura but don't have much headache to follow it. It looks as if I'm peering through beveled glass, with sharp, bright lines that usually go from the upper left to the lower right of my vision. It usually starts in one eye but quickly goes to both, and sometimes there are blank spots in my sight, so that if I'm staring at a person's eyes, I cannot see the bottom half of their face at all. Having been to the doctor about this years ago, I know not to be frightened of it, although it's always alarming.

This was different though, in that it was only one eye and the flash definitely moved, still usually starting in the upper left but not always. And it didn't go away. By eleven o'clock I called the ER and found out they didn't have an eye specialist on call last night, so I went to bed. I did so with some misgivings because I read that those symptoms can be signs of a retinal detachment and fast action is necessary to save your sight.

Anyway, I called the opthamologist first thing this morning and was told to come right in.
Bill agreed to take me, and I wanted him to go to the clinic for his own respiratory stuff anyway, so this was a good time to make that happen.

Thank God, I don't have a tear or detachment of my retina. The doctor said I have a vitreous detachment, and they are common in people over fifty. They themselves don't do any harm, but they need to be watched to make sure they don't somehow pull the retina and tear a hole.

There, more of that wonderful stuff you can look forward to as you age!

Anyway, my topic today was going to be on connecting, not inside your eyeballs, but with other people. I wrote a prose-y sort of poem about it yesterday, and then stumbled on a blog in which the author talks about questions, how some open conversations and some close them. I'll give you the poem first, then the link.

Searching for Connection

Visiting the old folks
I strain forward in my seat,
trying to coax from them
stories of who they are,
where they’ve lived,
what they’re proud of.
Sadly, and too often,
pictures on the night stand
tell the only tale I’ll hear:
him in his uniform,
her in her wedding gown.
Sometimes, the best that I can do
is whisper in an ear,
“You’re beautiful,”
or pat a shoulder saying,
“I’m so proud to know you.”
Later, in the paper, I may read
of an extraordinary life
I never got to know.

Loss of memory, loss of self,
are barriers greater than time.

http://paintedprayerbook.com/