Just Heather

Thirteen years ago today, I said, “I do.” Earlier this year, I did it again. Each wedding meant something big to me, but anniversaries? I’m not really the type.

I’m not the girl who remembers the day of our first kiss. I couldn’t tell you the night of our first date. I can’t recall the date he proposed. What I remember are the feelings—the giddy, butterflies-in-your-stomach, never going to forget this moment feelings.

The dates are fleeting in my memory, but, the wedding date? Well, I wrote it down. And, so we celebrate year after year—it’s nice to mark the time and know we’re still making it. He’s still the one. We’re beating the odds. And, we’d do it all over again.

Usually, though, we celebrate on a weekend surrounding our wedding. This year, we’re booked until October. So, when I realized how much free time I was going to have now that Lorelai is in preschool, I suggested a morning date after dropping the girls at school.

I thought we could turn it in to our Letter M alphabet date, originally slated to be an afternoon at museums, but with 3 kids we’re nothing, if not flexible. I pictured a leisurely morning in bed, content just to snuggle in the peace & quiet, a walk through our small town & an early lunch at a quiet cafe before preschool pickup.

He pictured something else entirely. I think the biggest problem, there, is I didn’t let him know what I had in mind. So, when he rushed me to get ready, brushed past me without commentary on the care I took to get ready and told me we had to hurry so he could get to work, he didn’t understand why I was upset.

We parked in front of a local diner and tried to talk it out, but a whole mess of other stuff managed to come up. I’m sure to passersby, we just looked like we were waiting for something. And, I think we usually are. We’re waiting for life to get easier. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for our thoughts & goals to just mesh.

Without a lot of thought or conversation about how we’re going to make that happen. So, our morning date was canceled in favor of talking. And tears. And more talking. We’ve still got a mess of stuff to figure out, but who doesn’t? We’ll just have to keep talking and figure it out.

Because we’ve still got half the alphabet to get through. Not to mention the rest of our lives. And, I’ll marry him again if I have to. Next time, I want the princess gown & a castle. Not that I’ve put a lot of thought into it or anything.

A couple weeks ago, I woke up with a headache, sore throat, stuffy nose and blurry vision. None of this is odd—I get strep throat & sinus infections several times per year, and if I wore my glasses more often there’s a chance I could see clearly.

My cold went away, and I could see again—in my right eye. My left eye? Still pretty blurry. Then something weird happened Friday night. The blurry vision? Was suddenly very localized, like there’s a big bubble in the center of my eye. It’s a good thing I spent so many years in marching band—if peripheral vision is all I’ve got, I’m glad it’s so well developed.

I went to Lenscrafters in my first free minute on Saturday. They were booked but scheduled an appointment for Sunday. I flunked most of my pre-screening tests. You know,the ones for my left eye. Then, I headed back to see the eye doc. Yes, this is Lenscrafters but he’s an independent ophthalmologist and has always been great with Brenia.

He asked a lot of questions, looked at my retinal pictures and told me my problem was beyond his expertise. Um, that’s not something you want to hear. Ever. I have a retinal bleed, causing wet macular degeneration—a central vision blind spot. He referred me to a retinal specialist (appointment at 1:15 today) for immediate surgery.

There’s an 80% chance my vision will be completely restored once they stop the bleeding. That’s a passing grade and everything, but that 20%? Sounds awfully high when you’re talking about my sight.

I. Am. Terrified.

And, not just about losing my vision. It took me most of yesterday (with lots of tears that are possibly not good for a bleeding eye), but I’ve come to terms with that. I think. It’s just one eye, anyway. I’m currently ignoring Dr. Google who hints that it could happen to the other one as well. Dr. Google is mean and scary.

I’m scared of surgery. They’re going to point laser beams at my eye. My eye!

I’m scared of the financial ramifications. Our insurance is basically sucky, our HSA is fairly depleted from other events, we just received a huge list of repairs for the rental house we own, and our savings account? Not what it should be.

My eyesight or letting Lorelai go to preschool as planned? My eyesight or keeping the girls in their current school. My eyesight or the Disney vacation my girls have been excited about for months? I might honestly choose all the things my girls “need” except that my personal income pretty much relies on my eyes. How can I blog blind? But, we’re ignoring that possibility for the moment.

Except. I’m not.