Sons
My First Drink Alone

Last Word on Cataracts

My cataracts are gone. Both of them. The second one was easier than the first—maybe because I knew the routine. But I am sure that I had less local anesthesia this time because I heard every word uttered in my short stay in the O.R. The topic was the chimp that ripped off the face of its owner's friend. What a cheerful subject to hear while under the knife so-to-speak! I could also hear the quiet whirring of the ultrasound machine breaking up my cataract. I could hear the surgeon saying "beautiful."

 

So I write this 48 hours post-surgery on a computer screen that is whiter than is used to be, and I am not wearing glasses. I have lots of drops to take for quite a while—they are already a part of my routine.

 

Everything is a different, brighter color. And now that I see him better, I can report that Peter is even more handsome than I remembered.

 

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