Tuesday, May 23, 2017

The Black Hole

Let me "take flight / From dismal," as Emma Lazarus wrote in 1881. But that's tough. 

My bipolar disorder leaves me dismally inclined; its medicine reduces mania more effectively than it lightens depression.

On good days, I can appear civil, even though I roil in pessimism. But if stress kicks in, I simply sink into a Black Hole.

So when I agreed to have cataract surgery on June 20th, panic spun me down.

Oh, no! He'll operate on the wrong eye!

Oh, no! The surgeon will sell me a newfangled fancy multi-focal intra-ocular lens for $11,000 that will blur my sight!

Oh, no! I'll go blind!

So this email from my friend Kira stunned me: "I had cataract surgery years ago, and it made a wonderful difference. You will enjoy seeing the world with new eyes!" 

What? Joy is a possible reaction to eye surgery?

From inside my bottomless pit, I could scarcely believe Kira's words. But they gave me hope. 

So I inched out of my wretched abyss, struggling to know how I too might "take flight / From dismal."

No comments:

Post a Comment