By Guinn Sweet | firstname.lastname@example.org
Thomas Hood, the 18th/19th century English poet, wrote, “…’extremes meet’, as the whiting said with its tail in its mouth …” in his 1836 comparison of comics and Quakers.
I am not comparing those two entities, but I am talking about two extremes meeting with my being crushed in the middle this past week!
For the past several weeks I have been antagonized with an irritated right eye, and it gradually becoming more so as time passed. Finally, Coleen insisted that I have it seen by a doctor, but I hesitated because it was my bad eye, which sees little to nothing at all anyway, so my vision was not being compromised in any way. However, I made phone calls to nearby optometrists, ophthalmologists and corneal surgeons. Each diagnosed the situation as having to do with loose eyelashes and/or floating sutures from a previous corneal transplant … but did little to nothing in treating said condition. At last, the surgeon told me that I should return to the primary eye surgeon. I did not know for sure that he still existed, but a search revealed that he had indeed survived the years following the transplant and I made an appointment to see him, one day last week.
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