A new lease on life

I know there are a lot of things going on in the world right now. The Olympics in Paris. Twelve schoolchildren killed in northern Israel by Hezbollah. Retaliatory bombing of Beirut, Lebanon, by Israel. Leaders of Hamas assassinated in Tehran and Damascus. Joe Biden replaced by Kamala Harris in an apparent bloodless coup in the upper echelons of the Democratic Party without a single vote having beien cast for her in any primary election. Three little girls stabbed to death near Liverpool, England, while dancing to Taylor Swift's music.

However, please bear with me for one more post about myself and then I will blog about other things.

I am elated. I am ecstatic. I am still somewhat giddy at the wonder of it all.

i'm referring to the recent surgeries to remove cataracts from both of my eyes..

The great thing about having had surgery to remove cataracts from my eyes is, as you might expect, that I can see so much better, but I had no idea how much better it would be. It is hard to describe. It is rather like Dorothy leaving Kansas and arriving in Oz. I don't mean Australia (but here's a shout-out to kylie, Sue, and Helsie, anyway). I don't try mean that I now live in a place where scarecrows can talk, lions are cowardly, monkeys can fly, or witches melt. I mean it has been rather like going from a black and white world, an increasingly dark, drab, dim world, to a bright, beautiful Technicolor world. I didn't realize fully how poorly I was seeing. I could no longer read a newspaper. To use my smart phone or my desktop computer required me to put my nose about an inch from the screen, and the print kept fading into ever lighter shades of gray.

I feared that my worsening eyesight was due to the macular degeneration I've written about in other posts. It was not. It was due to the cataracts.

There is one small downside to having vastly improved vision. I can now see in the mirror clearly every wrinkle on my face, neck, and brow, and I don't need the mirror to see my wrinkly hands. They are not a pretty sight.

I feel sorry for Mrs. RWP having to look at me every day, although she says she is nor complaining.

I will tell you just what sort of person Mrs. RWP is. Yesterday I was wearing a pair of tan shorts that I hadn't worn since losing quite a bit of weight. They fit quite loosely in the waist and I had to keep hoisting them up. After about half an hour of hoisting I said, "My pants are about to fall off." Did she say, "Change into a different pair, then" or "Put on a belt"? No, she did not.

She said, "Don't stand in front of a window".