Note To Self:

Note to self: relax. This is a fairly routine procedure,
thanks to modern medical technology. Routine for
the vulnerable elderly. Yes, you are now among that
venerable contingent. Do not unduly concern yourself,
for a renowned and skilled ophthalmology surgeon
will operate. What can possibly go wrong?

Purely rhetorical, not meant for you to muse upon,
that query; a clear invitation to uninformed conjecture.
The bedside alarm rings you awake - as though, in any
event, you were yet sound asleep. The early morning
news is on. First item on the line-up: a news release
that the hospital to which you will be admitted is
struggling to cope with a deadly outbreak of
antibiotic-resistant bacterial infections.

You shower, feed your little dogs, clean up the ordure
the frail elderly one deposited in the kitchen right after
you let her in from the inclement outdoors. On the road,
traffic is congested, though past the rush hour; likely
frantic Christmas shoppers, but you will arrive at the
surgical unit of the hospital with adequate time to spare.
Forget the sleet, the dull grey of a storm-driven atmosphere,
speak to your nervous and concerned husband.

Persuade him there is no valid reason for him to remain
there in that place, along with all the others awaiting
their surgeries. Best for him to return home, then come
along when you've rested, post-surgery. Focus on
disrobing, pulling hospital fashions over your body,
shuffling along the corridor in blue paper slippers,
gown billowing behind, too large for your small frame.

The smiling nurse, the interview pre-surgery, the careful,
irritating fusillade of eye drops, the blood oxygen tests,
above all the sky-high blood pressure test. You know very
well that high reading is not representative of white-coat
syndrome, and wryly state so. We will judge your pain
post-surgery on a zero-to-ten scale she advises quietly.
You will be given a prescription to cope. Coping.