So I had cataract surgery on Sunday afternoon. Funny day, you may think, but at least I had the opportunity to go to church in the morning and share communion with my friends before taking this next step into the unknown.
And it is the unknown that is scary. And I was scared. And squeamish about someone fiddling around with my eye. But needs must – and I found attempting to proofread the last book with blurry eyes that wouldn’t cooperate was truly cramping my style. (I’m grateful that my most eagle-eyed reader friend has only spotted two typos, duly marked up for the reprint… if there is one!)
Anyway, Sunday afternoon, after a light lunch, off I went in a friend’s car to a private eye clinic on the outskirts of Norwich, currently being well-used by the NHS to make the huge waiting lists vanish.
The actual op took ten minutes. I’ve no idea whether I had an injection to numb the eye or whether it was the magic drops the nurses kept popping in my eye. Whatever, it seemed to work and I was off home, slightly dazed before 4 o’clock!
I thought this would be a quiet week when I could malinger gently (one of the benefits of living alone is no one to gee you up when you just feel like being lazy!) but having a new book out means people want to know about it – and I’ve found myself writing articles and choosing pics for local papers. I totally hate pics of myself and most of my profile pics are – shall we say – a few years old!
So here’s a last one of me, with the old left eye and the old spectacles!
dorothystewartblog 