Blind-sided Recovery, Part One 

Tuesday, April 28, 2009 You mean it’s not May? Boy, am I out of touch. Last week, the bandages came off, one on the left pointer finger, another, a contact over the left eye healing from PRK surgery. If only my eye was healed. Then perhaps I would have seen my digit finger slip behind the car door as it slammed shut. Ouch!

Blindsided I yelled my predicament. My Maria and chauffeur hadn’t pressed the car key’s fob to lock. And she froze. My right hand fought shock to open the door. Out came my finger oozing red where the cuticle met the fingernail.

One reason for the laser surgery was to be rid of the bottle glass lens that my left eye needed to see two inches and beyond. The lens blocked peripheral vision on the left. Angels and family would intervene when I drifted left into people and cars.

An x-ray showed no fracture. The doctor thought I would lose the nail, but I could write once the throbbing and bleeding stopped.

If solutions were only that simple: resume life when the pain stops. Some think we can imagine peace to erase woes that we can channel the inner buddha to end suffering and find compassion. Some have the audacity to hope that charm can finesse an agenda for utopia. 

Others of which I am guilty, escape into diversions that fuel more woes.

So I struggle to finish this piece begun ten days ago. Now it truly is May. Blindsided by the lack of left vision, I stumble in a world of many humanist woes. He who overcomes this world takes my bruised hand to balance them on the keys below QWERTY...