Bargaining
It turns out that I am an optimist after all. I see my eyeball as half full. It is still not possible to see out of my left eye, especially since the meniscus wobbles straight through the middle of my line of vision. If I tilt my head down, I can look through the liquid and the world becomes a fish bowl. I can reasonably expect the gas bubble to have dissipated in another two weeks, at which point I may return to aerial circus arts and air travel and the possibility of a new prescription that will give me clear enough binocular vision to drive my car.
I am not back to normal. I am far from normal. But I can imagine what normal might look like.
I make promises to myself--how I will reward myself for living through this. I have bought myself a coat for the Winter. I have purchased elaborate electronic bits for my Halloween costume. I have found a shop to remake my long-dead twenty-hole boots in real leather. I have promised myself a red silk gown and a new tattoo and vacation with J someplace warm. I am going to be so well-dressed when I am done with this. I am going to look fantastic.
I am not back to normal. I am far from normal. But I can imagine what normal might look like.
I make promises to myself--how I will reward myself for living through this. I have bought myself a coat for the Winter. I have purchased elaborate electronic bits for my Halloween costume. I have found a shop to remake my long-dead twenty-hole boots in real leather. I have promised myself a red silk gown and a new tattoo and vacation with J someplace warm. I am going to be so well-dressed when I am done with this. I am going to look fantastic.