An adventure of another kind
February 6, 2017

Not so long ago, I received an unexpected and surprising note from my friend Jim’s left foot, surely not an everyday email (but then, Jim's dogs also email, so maybe it shouldn't be that surprising).  That missive opened up a whole new world for my body parts, some of whom had evidently waited for 70 years for the opportunity to speak up, seems that once they knew they could get a message out to the world via the computer keyboard, there was just no stopping the most “vocal” of them.

My left eye appears to be the spokesman, and well he should - he’s the latest of my body’s miscreants.  Don’t get me wrong; I love my left eye and appreciate all his hard work.  I know his problem is not of his own making and that he would just as soon be tootling along without any of this folderol.

Allow me to let him introduce himself as he did when he first realized he had a say-so and was responding to a friend’s query about his well-being.

“G’day to you!

This is Rita’s left eye writing about my anticipated experiences.  We have met before; however, our introduction has never been formalized.  You may call me Lefty; if I may be so bold, I will call you by your first name, although I am unable to verbalize, as you can imagine.

You have heard about my upcoming surgery.  The whole affair is quite a surprise to both Rita and me, and not one Rita is particularly thrilled about.  We have scarcely had time to get used to the idea, but then better to git ‘er done, we both agree.

Clearly (pardon the expression), Rita, while not excited about the necessity and its immediate aftermath, is grateful that my particular issue is deemed repairable.

I knew there was a problem, but it took Rita a couple of days to see (again, I beg forgiveness) that something was amiss.  When the light dawned (she noticed that her central vision on my side was no more), she was fortunate to be seen (can’t seem to help myself) quickly by the purveyor of all things ocular, who opined as how I had developed a wrinkle in my macula (crying out pete’s sake, I have been working non-stop for 70 years - what could you expect???) and that I had best be seen (really, it just happens) by a retina specialist who would be in the office two days hence.

That feller was not nearly as encouraging - seems the so-called wrinkle was in fact a hole (please refer to previous comment regarding my age and efforts).  He cited a 95% success rate for surgery, thus Rita and I agree that we are good to go.

Alas, there are a few flies in the ointment: first, the surgery has to be performed in Phoenix, and second, she must remain in that god-forsaken place for no less than five (or eight, depending on who is speaking) days, and third, but by no means lesser, Rita is told she must remain face-down for three days following the medical intervention.  If that ain't a boy-howdy, I don’t know what is!  Of course it won’t bother me nearly so much, but she is pretty whiney about it.  In fact, I’m a little excited because I get to wear a pirate patch afterward!

After eavesdropping on Rita’s conversations with Chris, I understand that, while the timing could have been infinitely worse, my little issue is throwing a monkey wrench into other plans.

I heard them say they will take the trailer to the big city for our stay there, and the surgeon is okay with us going from there to Ehrenberg, after the prescribed interval, to enjoy the previously planned 10-day stay there, which is without charge because Chris will be performing music for that bunch.

Somehow or another, some other shorter separate trips have now combined so that we will go directly from the valley hellhole to Ehrenburg, thence to Tucson and finally to Wilcox, and home by the end of February.  Whew!  I will have my work cut out for me with so much to see; sure hope I am up to the task after surgery.

Rita prefers not to know too many details about the procedure - can’t imagine what her problem is; it’s me that is bearing the brunt of this surgical invasion.  We do know they will be draining my fluid and replacing it with gas, which has to do with not coming home right away to higher elevations lest I blow up (or something).  The face-down business is just odd; she doesn’t quite understand that and definitely can’t figure out how one goes about such, but I presume she will follow doctor’s orders to insure my best opportunity for recovery.

Because I have a multitude of very annoying floaters, Rita now wonders if flushing me out will eliminate those pesky intruders.  Perhaps she will come out of this with half the number of floaters; Righty, my partner, of course will still have hers.  Rita seems happy about the possibility of eliminating an entire flotilla.

ocularly yours,
Lefty”

So now Lefty has undergone his surgical repair, which the surgeon deems a success; however, he is reluctant to release his hold on the keyboard, being the center of our current universe.

“Lefty here again.  Geez luize, I’m sure glad I didn’t know what this was going to be like ahead of time!  Don’t they know I’m a delicate little thing, sensitive to that kind of invasion??? 

Oh well, I liked the folks at Barnett Dulaney, all very nice, at least until they came at me with those instruments!  I have to admit it was kind of embarrassing that Rita was a bit ditzy during the surgery.  She later told Chris she could see my innards being sucked out (don’t worry; I intend to rejuvenate anew).  Then she thought the surgeon said he was mopping up my insides with a q-tip, so she tried to be amusing and asked him if he was doing surgery with a q-tip.  Good grief, I can’t take her anywhere!

Third day post surgery and Rita has been quite the whiner.  Some of my fellow body parts are not the happy campers, either, most especially Neck.  Besides me (the most important player in all this), Neck and Shoulders are just about at their wit’s end, I am told.  Neck complains day and night that his job is to hold Head upright, he takes pride in doing his job, and it’s against all the laws of nature to keep Head in a downward position, not to mention it hurts like the dickens.

Chris & Rita shelled out a good bit of dough to rent vitrectomy (that’s the name of my surgery) recovery equipment; however much that has helped, Neck complains of constant pain, nevertheless, and Face - wow, you should hear her!  Three days in this unnatural position has caused all fluid to gather there (this morning, Rita sneaked a quick peek in the mirror and didn’t even recognize the person reflected there.

I have to admit that Face really is taking a beating through all this.  In addition to the aforementioned issue, she is really singing the blues about that eye patch, too (very disappointing to me - I was promised an impressive pirate-type patch and what I got instead was a namby-pamby clear shield with holes in it - of course it does help me to breathe).  Anyway, my shield is affixed to Face’s skin with exceptionally adhesive tape that pretty much rips her skin every morning when she removes it - and she gets a whole week of that!

I had to chuckle while Rita was in the trailer’s bathing cubicle attempting to affix toothpaste to toothbrush this morning (She really does need me in conjunction with Righty to have any depth perception).  She finally managed, but it took a good bit of finagling.  Good thing she knows where Mouth is, anyway.

Following that exercise, she emerged (face-down, of course) to stumble into the so-called kitchen where she sipped coffee through a straw - can you imagine that!!?? - sipping coffee through a straw?  I heard her say it wasn’t very satisfying, about like the night before when she sipped wine through a straw - oh buruther, these people!

And you should see (that word sure pops up a lot for me) the two of them trying to set up equipment, pads, pillows, mirrors, computers, books and the like to enable Rita to sleep on her face, read emails (and occasionally to type one - too bad she doesn’t have a tablet - that would make it easier) . . .

. . . and watch television.  She leans forward and rests her head on a contraption with a table underneath.  The tv screen is reflected onto a bizarre mirror doodad, a wholly uncomfortable and unsatisfactory arrangement, but a person has to do something to pass the time.

Rita checked out audio books from the Prescott library; she says that helps some because she can let Neck rest while she listens to those. 

A favorite amusement was the game Rita’s friend Linda devised to keep Brain from rotting (Rita should ask Linda if she really thinks Brain is so close to its demise that three days of inactivity would do it in).

 Be assured we all joined in to stimulate Brain with Linda’s clever diversion (Taste Buds provided the impetus; Linda included dark chocolate as rewards).  It also worked to get in a few hands of Banana-grams.

All the vitrectomy recovery paraphernalia repurposes to allow face-down vehicle travel - to hear Rita tell it, also not overly fun.

 I have failed to mention Hair, primarily because she seems completely hopeless.  All this hanging down with Face thrust through vinyl doughnuts has resulted in Hair standing askew every which way.  The rest of us wonder if she will ever be the same.

In Chris’ unending quest to be amusing, he thought Rita should try birdwatching by peering downward through the binoculars at the mirror which ostensibly would be aimed at avian life of one kind or another.  They did see a cactus wren this morning, scrabbling around under a bush for nest material.  At least Chris said he saw it; Rita just saw her feet.

Ears have also asked to be mentioned.  They are being assailed with unaccustomed big city racket, especially accentuated because our RV site is separated from a popular convenience market by only a wooden fence.  How spoiled Ears are - more attuned to back yard bird calls than obnoxious revving engines, sirens and constant traffic.

The one thing Ears did not expect to hear here (heh, heh - Eyes have a sense of humor, too, you know) was train whistles.  Rita poo-poohed Chris’ thought that he heard such until they drove out of the park to find - lo and behold! - the Phoenix light rail comes clear up north to Dunlap!  Who knew?!  Would have liked to ride just for the fun of it, but then again, how fun would it be to sit there looking at the floor???

Not to be left out of doing her part, Wrist just piped up to remind me that she is our guardian, wearing our warning bracelet to remind us and medical personnel about that tiny, but mighty, gas bubble lurking in my innards.

While Rita was allowing me use of the computer, Chris was working on a job - he has contracted to arrange and score some songs for a Phoenix musician.  It keeps him off the streets.

In addition, we all enjoyed some great music he played on the park’s nicely tuned piano.

Prior to our collective malaise, we all enjoyed an evening out, and don’t think we didn’t appreciate it!  Chris & Rita drove way downtown to dine at the original Macayo’s, an iconic eatery born the same year as Rita (yup, that’s a long time ago), and one they have always enjoyed.

As it turns out, it will be their final time to enjoy that unique ambiance; for reasons none of us can imagine, the restaurant will be moving out of that location, a never-to-be-equaled establishment - no one passes the Aztec-inspired pyramid without noticing it.  Taste Buds appreciated the opportunity - they said the chicken-stuffed poblano with enchilada sauce and Baja sauce could not have been better.

The huge fanciful mosaic dragon on the back wall and the hand-carved front doors are to be auctioned off before the building is demolished to make way for an apartment building, although Rita wonders how the dragon will be extracted from the wall.

Tuesday is freedom day, and are we ever looking forward to looking up again!  I will not be of much use visually for several weeks while I finish healing, but Rita will be able lift her head and use Righty to gaze around.  For now, my sight is limited to peering through what resembles a colorless jelly-filled lens.  I am told that when Rita rights her cranium, the gas bubble will rise to the top, but in my upside-down refractory fashion, it will appear to her that she is looking out over the jiggly stuff until eventually, I complete my aqueous fluid rejuvenation and the gas dissipates.

Until then: Here’s looking at you!”

The royal palms for which our RV park is named.