Sitting in the Cuenca sunshine, waiting for my eye to heal

My left eye has become the center of my life. Nothing else has any importance. I tell myself that I am in a routine healing process but my left eye doesn’t see it that way and has grabbed my gut and refuses to let go, not allowing any other aspect of my life to intrude into its domain.

The frequency of putting drops in my eye had decreased from hourly to every three hours, my vision was improving daily, but on awakening Friday morning the fog had returned. I quickly made an unscheduled visit to my doctor who mumbled something about a determined inflammation, added an eye drop, put me back on an hourly schedule and assured me that the vision would return.

So a little bump on the road, the improvement has resumed, I find myself able to relax into the sunshine and warmth of today but five minutes later my gut says “no you don’t”. I know this will pass but it is so frustrating to have so little control.

A bit of news that is momentous for me and actually takes my mind (and gut) away from my eye is that I will be able to stay in this apartment that I like so much until at least January of 2019. Gerardo, the owner was in town and I got to know him a bit and like him a lot. He is like most Cuencanos in that although he left here to move to the States with his family when he was four years old and has lived there continuously he feels a strong urge to return. The short of it is that his retirement plans will not allow him to come home before then.

Maria Elena has returned to work and she has held my old slot of 2 hours on MWF at 9  open for me. Her baby (a happy and healthy boy) was born in mid-June and after nearly five years of classes the break was a pleasure. So it is time to get back to class and my head is ready. Except at this point the underlying, ever present tension of “the eye” says “no”. I am sure much (most) of it is an underlying fear that things will not end up as well as they usually do in this situation and I really do like having two functioning eyes. It is a bit annoying to reach with the top of the eye drop bottle to screw it back on and only be close to where it needs to be.

So I laugh and again remind myself that all there is is now, how fortunate I am to be here, and sitting here at this moment with the sunshine coming in through the door as I type. How could I ask for more?

Cuidense. And my love, Dave