They Listen

The weather has been beautiful and for a fairly long time; a couple weeks so far; unusual for Seattle.  I’m glad for it, but it’s hard not to be able to go out and enjoy it.   I went to see my eye doctor at his new incredibly big and beautiful building (it was a modest little place for the past 12 years) and the prescription I got does not work; my old glasses work better. So back I went, they said it was right, but to come back the next Saturday for an appointment.  So I went in yesterday, they were running 20 minutes late, I was in agony and I left.  And they told me they could not get me in unit September.  I was in too much agony and shock to call them on it, but I’m calling Monday to tell them this isn’t right.  I’ve been a long time customer, they know my health problems, and now I get to stay in bad shape eye wise for another three months (by the time I get the correct lenses).  It really ticks me off.  Boy did I digress.

The point I was trying to make is that they are located in one of my favorite places, Edmonds.  It’s on the water, the ferries are running, the shops are small and independently owned (save for Starbucks, an eyesore to be sure) and people milling about, enjoying the wonderful restaurants, etc.  I used to go down there all the time.  They had weekend markets and a million other things to do.  My friend Anne and I would take her dog to the dog park on the water.   Now I can’t enjoy any of it.   And I miss it.  All of it.  Every day.  My friends talk about all that is going on now, all they are doing.  And I want them to; I don’t want them to have to listen to me go on and on about my pain without listening to what’s going on in their lives.  I’m sure it’s as hard and heartbreaking to listen to me as it is for me to listen to them.  But that’s what friends and family do.  They listen.

Anyway, it’s a busy time in Seattle; lots of festivals, long beautiful days.  And I’m in bed before ten.   And yesterday the pain was awful; it kept up so that I didn’t sleep.   I’m wondering again what the point of all this is.  It’s really too much.  I keep asking for help, and it does show up for a day or two each month, but that’s it.  So if that’s accurate (and if anything, it’s less) that means I have 24 good days each year.  Out of 352.  Huh.  Sorry I realized that one.

I did force myself to go to the Great Clips down the street from me.  I was looking like Eraserhead.  The whole event took less than 30 minutes.  Now I’m flat on my back again, watching the sunshine through the window and waving at the hummingbirds.