It Remains to be Seen

“A prophet is not without honor except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own home.”

A series of operations on my right eye have left it minimally usable. It serves mostly to inform me that it is most likely daytime, or nighttime, and to monitor my right periphery.

In recent time, my left eye, having learned to become the dominant eye, has developed its own problems; principally cataracts, a film over something-in-there, and an irritated retina. Doctors decided that the first medical attack should be to replace the cornea, and solve the cataract problem, with the hope that the retina would settle down, and that my sight would be good enough.

Monday--yesterday--I had a cataract operation. They sent me home with a patch over my left eye, meaning that I had to maneuver about with only what my right eye was showing me, and that was not much!

Today, with orders to report to the Doctor, I brushed my tooth, and pawed about in the closet until I had found what I believed to be an acceptable shirt and pants. In fact, they were, but when Mari came into the bedroom to see how things were going, her first words were, "Oh, no! They don't match!"

It remains to be seen (if you will pardon the expression) whether the operation was successful. Our marriage is on the rocks.

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