Prone

Today, I can only write in fifteen minute increments. Then it’s back to bed with my head shoved into a special pillow so I can watch Netflix or TikTok until I want to scream. Every two hours my phone goes off alerting me that it’s time for more of those stinging eye drops.

A week ago, I noticed a tiny dark shadow in the corner of my left eye. At first I thought it had appeared because I had driven down to L.A. to visit my daughter at UCI, and the autumn sun sat low and bright as I drove, shining right into my eyes for most of the trip. Normally, I would’ve put off calling the doctor, and just wait for the problem to simply resolve itself, but this time, it felt different—somehow more ominous. My gut told me to call. I’ve written about my issues with slight retina detachments before (you can read about it here should you be so inclined: https://allegronontanto.wordpress.com/2023/05/18/seeing-clearly/ .

My hunch was right–my retina had detached. And it wasn’t a slight one, either. The following morning, I went under the knife, so to speak, and before the surgeon patched me up, she left me a special gift behind my eye—a gas bubble that I’m told will eventually dissipate over time. This bubble is prevents the retina from detaching again, and to optimize its usefulness, the patient (me) must keep her head down and flat for 45 minutes of each hour. In the meantime, that big, fat bubble is pretty much preventing me from seeing clearly out of my left eye.

I must admit that the lying flat part is worse than the actual surgery. Because I’m a person who always has to be accomplishing something, this has been the most difficult aspect of my recovery. Oh, the guilt of not working! That old crone in my head will not stop shouting “Idleness is of the devil!”

Having the luxury of unlimited time to lie around and do nothing is so uncomfortable for me. To watch a complete Netflix series in one sitting is just not in my wheelhouse, especially if I can’t fold laundry or give myself a pedicure while watching. (By the way, I highly recommend “The Chestnut Man,” a Danish murder/detective limited series—it’s fantastic.) Now, not only does my back hurt from being prone for so long, I’m also on a course of steroids for inflammation, which makes me crave salty food. And I’m uncharacteristically grumpy.

Poor, poor me. For once in my life, I have nothing to do, and yet I still manage to complain.

I’ve had many experiences in my life that try to teach me to stop and slow down. And I do manage to change my behavior, at least for a little while. Then, before I know it, I’m back to rush, work, and produce. I realize I’ve got to learn to enjoy each tiny little moment; that time is moving way too fast and I’ve got maybe another thirty years left on this planet. I’m sure I’ll be receiving messages from the universe in the future to make me stop and reflect.

Right now, I am trying my best to be still. When I can hold my head upright again, I’ll probably go right back to being that woman who must accomplish something in order to be deemed worthy.

But for now, I will lie down, find another show to stream, and keep my head down.

And I will do nothing.