Despite the crippling heat of the last few weeks, I went ahead and made the appointment with my optician, intending to get there under my own steam for what would be the first time in months.
Definitely several steps in the right direction, I thought, and although the thought was scary, I really looked forward to it.
Yesterday was the day, and the weather forecast was not good. First time out of the house and there was a torrential downpour waiting for me.
Undeterred, as a little water has never bothered me before, we set out at the appointed time.
I hadn’t gone far before I realised that going out into the wild world is not the same as trotting slowly around my own territory. I was terrified, and hung on to number one son’s arm as if my life depended on it!
I made it to the optician’s, a bag of nerves and yet full of optimism. An hour and a half later, after dozens of routine tests and fruitless conversation, I realised that I knew more about my condition than the young, inexperienced man I had been talking to.
Far from shedding light on my eye problem, which is what my neurologist suggested, everything seemed hopeless.
I determined to have another word with him, beg him to do something to save my sight, as his belief that I am far too old to do anything just doesn’t sit right with me. After all, some procedures don’t involve surgery or anaesthetics.
There has been no appointment from the pain clinic for my back, which is so disappointing, doubly so, for it has been suggested that there is a pain block for my head too, which is probably even further away…
Trying very hard not to collapse in despair, I will climb back into the WIP and forget everything else…
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