In January, I made an appointment with an eye surgeon, just to get a baseline for my cataracts, and see what we're dealing with. I told the nice appointment lady that I didn't need one right away, that whatever happened to be the doctor's first available was fine, even if it meant I'd wait 6 months. She was surprised and said, "Oh thank you, that makes my job so much easier!" Of course, when she called back at 9:02 the next morning as I was getting my kids out the door for school, and my son handed me the phone and said, "I think it's a telemarketer, or something. She didn't know our last name", she probably didn't think her job was so easy when I grabbed the phone and barked that I didn't have time for anything right now. (Yes, I was embarrassed when she meekly said, "I'm calling from Dr. Kaz's office?" Oops. Sorry about that.)
So my appointment is in April.
I wish it was tomorrow.
I can't see things anymore.
Okay, I'm not, like, completely blind, but even as I type, I'm struggling to see the screen that can't be more than 2 feet in front of me. I was reading earlier, on a Kindle, and struggled to see that. It's long been difficult to play the piano (although my difficulties there are also due to the fact that as a pianist, I kinda suck), and if I can, I let my husband drive at night. This is huge for us, as we discovered long ago that the success of our marriage hinges on me driving any time we're together. He says it's because I'm the worst back seat driver known to man. I say it's because I hate putting my life and the life of my children in the hands of a colorblind crazy man who isn't 100% certain when a traffic light is red. (Yes, we've had many close calls. That's a different post altogether. If you'd like to read it, I did actually write it up once. I wrote it up with a religious bent, for a religious blog, FYI. It's still a good story, though.)
Anyway, I think I need new eyes. Soon.