In April, as we here in the United States settled into the COVID 19 shutdown, friends from Minnesota called to ask how the crisis was affecting me. I told them truthfully that, except for not being able to buy whole wheat flour for bread-making, I’d noticed little change. As a result of a field-of-vision Glaucoma test in October 2016, I no longer drove and had become somewhat of a recluse, ordering groceries delivered from Hy-Vee and other sundry items from Amazon.
However, during April, as I explained in my April 30thposting, I had my own form of shutting down. Because of vision concerns, I had to stop watching television, reading, and using the computer. On April 30thI returned to the computer, wrote the posting, and began that week to visit your blogs and catch up—a little—on what had been happening in your lives. That was so enjoyable for me—reaching out to read your lives and to comment on your fortitude and your stories of living within the shut-down.
However, things have changed again. I had a bad fall this past Monday evening, wrenching my back and right ankle and hitting my right elbow so that my upper arm bone was shoved into the arm/shoulder socket. Painful. The fall shocked me. For over an hour, I could feel myself trembling inside. Then, to distract myself from listening to the “what if” questions that came with the trembling, I sat down at the computer and began to play spider solitaire—to which I’d become addicted last year.
I forgot to set the timer for the 30-minute session my regimen (described in the 4/30 posting) demanded. So I played obsessively until, all of sudden, all the playing cards blurred so that I couldn’t see either numbers or symbols. Looking up, I found everything blurred. This, too, scared me. I had sat here at this computer on Monday evening and played solitaire until, as is said, my eyes glazed over. Had I done any permanent harm?
Does straining our eyes result in damage to our optic nerves?
(In December 2015, when the pressure in my eyes rose to the danger zone, the nerves were, according to the specialist, severely and irreparably damaged. Since then, Dr. Ann and I have worked together to retard addition damage.)
The upshot of my feckless foolishness it that the next day, Tuesday/yesterday, I kept experiencing moments of blurriness that obscured the delineating lines of my furniture and home.
So here’s the new regimen: No turning on television except to “listen” to PBS Newshour even weekday evening. No reading. No using the computer. Instead, I will listen to audio books—I’ve enjoyed so many in the past eight weeks—declutter/reorganize all the closets, drawers, and cabinets throughout my home, and bake loaves of yeast bread (now that I have whole wheat flour), and, with white flour, make quick bread. All to go in the freezer.
Because of the virus, my appointment with Dr. Ann has been rescheduled from May 22ndto June 8th. Please note that I’ve used the “no comment” option for this posting as I plan on turning off the computer until after that June appointment.
You know, I feel that this is a fallow period for me. A time when seeds of possibility—newness—are germinating in the deep center of myself where Oneness dwells. Perhaps, it is a time of germination for all of us. Given that, I find myself hopeful for the future. And so, I’m ending with one of my favorite songs, sung by one of my favorite singers.
Please take care of yourselves and stay safe. Please know, too, how much I appreciate your virtual friendship. I am so fortunate to have come to know all of you through blogging.
Peace.
