The last test as it were, of the success of my April eye surgery to remove a cataract from my right eye took place today. I had an 11:30 a.m. appointment with the optometrist who had confirmed my need for cataract surgery and had connected me to the surgical clinic that would perform the removal and lens replacement. This was in fact, the third examination post-surgery -- the first two took place at the surgery clinic, and this represented the final one. 

 

 

The eye is completely healed and the adjustment to the new lens complete, so the purpose of this appointment was twofold; to check the physical condition of the eye and to prescribe appropriate new lenses. The first was speedily done, and I was shown the resulting photos (not very glamorous), and then the new prescription was worked out. The test for my vision acuity confirmed that my long-range vision is good. And for that reason I have no need to wear glasses constantly.

 

 

I was previously prescribed bifocals but their use is questionable for me since the only time I wear eyeglasses is for reading or computer use. In fact, the last prescription I was given years ago changed little in this exercise; the lens that dates from that earlier prescription I was informed, is more than adequate to my needs. But the optometrist also prescribed a lens solely for computer/reading use, and that's what I opted for.

 

 

All this was efficiently handled to the extent that I was in and out of the examining room in no time at all. It set us back no more than an hour in total, driving there and back, and including the examination. Jackie and Jillie accompanied us, Irving deciding to wait in the car for me, alongside the two pups on a cool but beautifully sunny, breezy morning. We don't ever have to go far within this community to find resources to satisfy all of our needs.

From first thing this morning, Jackie had been behaving oddly. He acted as though he was being haunted, nervously licking his back end. Irving surmised he had been bitten by an insect when we were out in the ravine for our hike yesterday. Out with Jackie and Jillie later going through the forest trails he continued to stop constantly in irritation at that same spot, licking it furiously. Later we found a pinprick scab at the site, so that cleared up that mystery. Eventually his frantic licking subsided.

 

The trails were completely dry today, bearing no resemblance whatever to the soaked surfaces we were met with yesterday afternoon after an all-night rain that continued well into the morning until noon brought out the sun. Today too, as in previous days for the past several weeks, we came across familiar dogs who when they see us, rush directly for us and look around for Irving for cookie handouts. Hate to disappoint them, Irving will make up for it when he's comfortable again striding through the forest.

 

When we returned Irving had taken all the pots and flats containing the annuals we'd bought yesterday when we returned to the Cleroux greenhouses. This time zinnias and more marigolds were among the begonias and lobelia and petunias we'd brought home with us. And we spent another pleasant hour or so planting them, filling up the garden pots and the gardens themselves with more colour. All that's left now is the planting for the backyard, and that'll be done another day or two from now.

 

I  hurried through the day's chores and managed to get everything done before we left the house at half-past twelve. So that was good. I don't enjoy these appointments, it's why I put off having my eyes examined for as long as I did. For one thing, the pandemic intervened and it just seemed inappropriate.

Well before we left the house Jackie knew something was afoot.  So we were treated to his usual wary querying look.

Worse, their collective chorus of howls as we left by the back door. We've learned to inure ourselves against their pathetic claims of dire abandonment. When we returned several hours later they exprresed their gratitude for our return by leaping manically all over us. And we expressed our appreciation for their stoic suffering, by giving them little treats.

 

We had gone off for my appointment at the Eye Clinic to have my right eye punctiliously measured so that the corrective lens to be inserted could be tailored specifically for the dimensions of my eye. This doesn't happen when a standard lens is used, only with the newer more advanced lens that provides both near- and far-sighted corrections, though they don't take the place of corrective eyeglasses.

Little did I realize that the biometric measuring required the use of so many electronic photo-measuring machines, five in total. And nor were we prepared for the number of sessions we were exposed to, minutely explaining all the details about the cataract surgery I will undergo on April 20. Much less the covenants of understanding and permissions that had to be perused and signed; like legal documents (which they are in case of litigation) and witnessed as well.

 

This clinic is incredibly busy, people coming and going continually. People of all ages, though the ones that took our notice were the elderly and the infirm; people barely capable of crossing a room at more than a turtle's pace, others requiring walkers or being pushed about in wheelchairs. It's a modern, new building with all manner of corridors and specialized rooms, not all of which are occupied by the clinic itself.

Unsurprisingly, the establishment employs a lot of staff. Each and every one of whom must have been hired not only for their accomplished professionalism but as well for their demonstrable mastery of the social etiquette of cheerful kindness. They have unlimited patience, and go out of their way to make people comfortable in these surroundings. Mostly they are young women, knowledgeable and obviously well-schooled in the use and purpose of these sophisticated diagnostic machines.

 

We were glad to finally leave the premises, taking with us all the instructions that strive to ensure that everything will go well. It's a far more complicated process than the one I recall going through when my left eye underwent a similar operation in hospital, but without all the complex interviews, instructions, and preparations.

 

Later, out in the ravine with Jackie and Jillie, we shed all the stress of the earlier afternoon interactions.

It should have felt warmer than the atmosphere we found on the forest trails, but there was a harsh and cutting wind that did its best to ice over the 7C high of the day. Which didn't stop the ongoing diminishment of the snowpack, filling the creek with snow and ice meltwater.

 

A more pleasant way to spend a few hours is hard to imagine. Just watching Jackie and Jillie immerse themselves in the pleasure of strolling the paths lifts our own spirits. As does the presence of other dogs taking their own afternoon runs through the ravine who come by to visit now and again. They hear Jillie calling to them and often in the far distance looking through the forest to other trails, we can see a dog or two speeding their way through to join us briefly before heading back to apologize to their human companions for temporarily abandoning them.

Not all meals are necessarily planned ahead, so it's good to have some standbys to call upon occasionally. Yesterday was one of those occasions. It had been a busy day. And we felt slightly disconcerted that we weren't able to get out for a turn in the ravine with the puppies. You might say we decided on a kind of festively creative meal, a collaborative affair where we both pitch in. Even Jackie and Jillie helped, obligingly gobbling up anything that might 'accidentally' hit the floor, like a piece of bell pepper or tomato, or even a slice of pepperoni.

Today was an unusual day in that we had an appointment. I prefer to avoid all such events, but this one could no longer be put off. I made no effort myself to effect the appointment, but Irving as always took the initiative and decided it could no longer be put off. My eyesight has really been deteriorating badly. It's been happening for a while and I knew the cause, just didn't want to be bothered.

I'd had a vitrectomy a dozen years ago to repair a hole in the vitreous of my left eye, and it hadn't worked, though it does in 80% of such surgeries. It's the opposite eye that enables me to read. And that left eye underwent cataract surgery about five years ago. Now it was time for the right eye to undergo similar treatment. 

Neither of us has seen a medical practtioner for the past three years, and that suited us just fine. But this was inevitable, and had to be looked after. I was shown a photograph of my eye with the cataract; it was quite advanced. The doctor and I discussed my options. Getting the surgery done at The Ottawa Hospital as was done before would take a year. Having it done at a private clinic could be accommodated within a month.

I'd told the doctor that I wasn't impressed with the factory-like conveyor belt of patients undergoing the surgery in a patient-and-doctor-crowded operating theatre. That's universal medicare. Done at the private clinic there would be a $2K charge that OHIP wouldn't pay for. So wait a year for the factory treatment or under a month for private care. In a year with the cataract progressing, I wouldn't be doing any reading. As it is I'm experiencing huge difficulty.

An hour later when we arrived home there was a call from the clinic for my first appointment in a week's time. There's another upside to getting it done at the private clinic. The surgeon who had performed my first cataract surgery at the hospital, now operates out of this clinic, and he will be doing this surgery for me, a second time.

My eyes were blurry from the drops applied to enlarge my pupils. So I wore sunglasses when we took the puppies out to the ravine later in the day. On our way we spoke for a while with our long-time neighbour across the street. She's busy looking after her first grandchild, a beautiful little boy. Her daughter-in-law, the child's mother has just lately been diagnosed with an advanced cancer.

We shed all of that when we enter the ravine. Which was a balancing feat unto itself. Yesterday's snowfall had been voluminous and the municipal plough had built a ridge of compressed snow over the trail entrance, so it took a bit of maneuvering before we were able to access the trailhead. As soon as they're unleashed our two little imps race downhill, and immediately race back up to where Irving usually gives them their first little cookie.

Along with the snow yesterday strong winds had whipped the snow everywhere, creating whiteouts for most of the day. Which served to clear much of the snow off the forest trees but for the evergreens that tend to hold on to their snow blankets more jealously and firmly than the hardwoods. We could feel and see ourselves hiking over an elevated snowpack. Ample numbers of people had been in before us, to semi-flatten the snow on the trails, so it wasn't as difficult for us taking advantage of that, as it surely was for those entering the forest yesterday while the storm was in progress.

Being out there in the forest among the sleeping trees comforted by a smooth, billowing layer of snow is restful and mind-calming. We could, though, empathize with how an owl was feeling with an anything-but-serene-mind, being mercilessly harassed by a group of crows circling and cawing madly as the crows confronted their existential enemy. A raptor confronted by omnivores, themselves birds of prey but not in the same class.