Saturday, March 7, 2015

Bummed, but in a First World kind of way

I tried to do something good for myself and ended up doing something bad.

Not Bad with a capital B, just really badly annoying.

I put on my boot like I am supposed to do and then although I had a lot of things going on, I sat down for a brief meditation that I am trying to do every day. I found one that I like on line – free guided meditations offered by the UCLA  Mindful Awareness Research Center – and so I clicked on a 12-minute option and settled in.

When I opened my eyes in the semi-dark room I was not entirely with it. I got up, took one step, and...CRUNCH...I stepped on my glasses that I love so much and that have seen me through thick and thin. They broke in half.

I have been so careful with them, keeping track of them through all my hospitalizations, and I really have no idea why I put them on the floor. They mean something to me. Plus I get a lot of compliments on them and I love their look and feel.

Mark at Village Eye Care checked with the company to see if they make something similar, but all of the glasses are bigger now. The optometrist, Steven Markow, came out to see what was wrong. I remember buying them after my first transplant when I was so immunosuppressed that I had to wear a mask and gloves when trying them on. I couldn't see what I looked like, so he let me take a few home with me, and my friend Korby helped me pick.

Right now I am wearing my spare pair of wire-rimmed glasses through which I don't see as well.

Steven (I call him that because we are long-time acquaintances) said, "It's time for a change."

Me: "I don't want a change."

Him: "I guess you're a real New Englander."

No I just want the same glasses.

One of these days I hope to go back to contacts, but I am not supposed to do it while I am still on prednisone. I know, it is a First World Problem, and not such a big deal in the long run because I can afford a new pair. I placed the order yesterday, and honestly they don't look all that different.

In the meantime I might try some tape or sticky glue.

(Distant memory of sticky glue: little Joe finding it in the junk drawer and screaming, "Mom, I glued my fingers together!" Gotta be careful with that stuff.)

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