Good grief, Doctor stuff again.  Time for the old yearly eye exam.  Since I’ve been diagnosed with cataracts and have a family history of macular degeneration, it’s always a time of happiness and joy. (right).  My husband has the ability to not worry about things unless and until they happen.  He thinks it’s odd that I can’t.  I think it’s odd that he can.  This leads to eye rolling on my part and blank stares on his.  Every once in a while it occurs to me that perhaps we should communicate better.  But then I think better of the impulse.  We’ll be married 36 years next month, and maybe that’s the key.  Perhaps if we knew each other better, we’d like each other less!

But I digress.  At the Doctor’s, I updated him on symptoms.  Since the holidays my left eye has been rather watery and blurry.  Figured it was due to the cataract in my left eye, diagnosed 3 years ago.  Thought he was going to tell me stuff about surgery I didn’t want to hear, so I waited 6 months for the scheduled appointment.  Not such a good move.  Come to find out, I have a blocked tear duct.  A “simple” in office procedure can probably fix it.  Wary as I am of that sort of thing, I jumped at the plan and told him to do it before I could think too much and talk myself out of it.  Numbing drops and a small rotor rooter device in hand he started doing some rather gross but not horribly painful stuff.  A few moments later it’s over with and I’m on my way home.  Minus the feeling that my left eye was about to tear over and run down my face at any second.

That’s the danger of diagnosing oneself.  Sometimes you’re wrong!  In the process of my adventure I learned that I have “tiny” tear ducts.  Just my luck.  It couldn’t be a tiny waist or tiny, delicate ears or something helpful or attractive.  Oh well, as health issues go it’s very minor and I’m well aware that I’m blessed.  Besides, complaining about the small stuff keeps your mind off the more major worries, doesn’t it?

I don’t think I’ll watch the news tonight…