There are sparkles around the outer edges of my vision and clarity is making its way to the fore, but it appears the second cataract surgery is a success. Although we’ve yet to reach the 24-hour mark, I am optimistic, even though I’m no doctor. Later today I go in for my next day check-up. She’ll tell me then how we’re doing. I’m hoping I’ll be cleared to drive. But I’m loath to put words in the doctor’s mouth. I did have a good night’s sleep last night even though I had a plastic shield taped over my left eye. Six days left for that.

At the moment my biggest battle is keeping my hands away from the surgically repaired left eye. Don’t touch. But it feels funny and cries out to be scratched, and caressed, as if there was some magic in my fingers. I’m also doing fairly well at avoiding the tendency to bend over. They don’t want your heart below your waist. I’ll ask why today. Basically, it means I have to stoop to get dishes out of the dishwasher and a lot of other things. That’s a little easier to manage than fighting the irresistible urge to rub my eye. I should probably stop talking about it.

I got a lot of nice calls and texts and messages yesterday wishing me well, and I did feel wrapped in a cocoon of prayers as I lay on the gurney waiting my turn. The feeling brings with it a sense of peace and well being and I believe it radiates out to the nurses and doctors. They seemed happy as they took me in and happy as they brought me out. I still need prayers for healing, that’s the second part of the battle, but I suspect once raised in behalf they’re good for the duration.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale