Planning for another physical change
this morning, I was proud. I could see the big E on the wall. Tiny step, but progress. Still, not enough. Although my salt water rinse will continue, there are other plans for me.
All the steps were completed, and I was ready. At the last moment, the surgeon decided that due to poor visibility I wouldn’t be getting the planned light show. No laser holes to wear proudly. Instead, I am to join many others on “The List”. At some future date, I will receive a new cornea, and the cataract will be removed in a concurrent procedure. My reaction? Meh. What will be, will be.
Back at the office, the others did ask (thoughtful), but it was from curiosity. And a need to plan for my absence, eventually. In our department, long term leaves are not replaced; the work is simply added to the desktops of others. A fitting strategy for a world of budget compression. And so, I washed the traces of orange dye from around my eyes and went back to being useful.
I happened across a list of Giller Prize winners (it’s a Canadian thing). Now I’m busy trying to figure out how many I have read, by accident or otherwise, over the last twenty years. Some are here, in hardcover. Others; no trace, anywhere. How does a book that is honoured end up off the map? Do authors come with a best before date, depending on the flavour?
The answer to why I didn’t bump into Michael and Catherine in ‘town this summer was revealed on one of those gossip TV shows that come on just after supper. Trial separation. If only they’d come east…
