Eye Eye, Sir

Monday afternoon, I found myself swatting swarms of gnats and here and there a fly away from my face.

I never once hit one.

Floaters. In my left eye. It was very disconcerting.

Tuesday, the floaters were worse. Along with flies and gnats, I now had the most unusual inky looking swirling lines that changed in pressure and varied from black to sepia. I thought, “Well this is kind of beautiful and not at all annoying.” But the swirls were quickly gone, leaving only the gnats and flies.

Wednesday, when I noticed that, in addition to the floaters, the vision in my left eye had become slightly cloudy, I remembered that San Geraldo had recently had a similar experience in his right eye (the floaters, not the cloudiness). He didn’t describe his as anything so interesting or beautiful (but then, he wouldn’t). He went to the ophthalmologist and learned that he had a vitreal detachment, a common problem with sometimes dangerous results. He was fortunate that his required no treatment and has gotten less noticeable with time.

I thought, “Well, maybe I should call for an appointment.”

Then I told San Geraldo about the cloudy vision, and he said, “We need to go to Urgent Care.”

Well, I didn’t just have a detachment, I had a torn retina (probably a result of a violent sneezing fit early Monday) needing immediate surgery. The tear was medium in size and went far back, which made it difficult for the doctor to reach it all during laser repair. But so far so good. I have to go back Tuesday.

The worst part of all this — other than the fact that I can’t do any kind of physical activity for two weeks, although the doctor did tell me I could “stroll” if I liked. (I don’t know how to “stroll”! There’s fast and there’s less fast.) — Anyway, the worst is that I lost my mobile phone somewhere between the hospital and home and had to buy a new one today.

There is a lesson here: I probably should listen more to San Geraldo. Oh Captain, My Captain!


There’s A Hole In The Sky

As most of you know, I live with clinical depression. I do what I can to keep the dark days — and nights — at bay. Medication helps, but needs to be adjusted over time. Without medication, I couldn’t survive. And sometimes I feel like I have to justify that to others.

“Oh, just change your attitude,” they’ll say.

“I just pull myself by my bootstraps and put a smile on my face,” some tell me.

“Just spend more time at the gym.”

Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. Attitude helps. A smile helps. Exercise helps. But they don’t cure clinical depression.

With the help of San Geraldo, I manage to keep the worst bouts from returning, simply by being aware and getting help when I/we see the patterns returning. What returns are the voices in my head. They tell me I’m not good enough (for what, I don’t know). I’m not handsome enough (for my life as a fashion model?), I’m not smart enough, kind enough, rich enough, confident enough, talented enough, humble enough.

On my good days, none of that even matters.

On my bad days, I’m simply not enough.

Lately, I’m not finding myself interesting enough, which explains my recent dearth of blog posts.

But, finally, rather than trying vainly to be enough for you (OK, for myself), I figured it was time to just tell you what’s been going on in my head.

The walks have helped. Usually about 11 km (8 miles) in 2-1/2 to 3 hours, with a day off between. Monday, it’s back to the gym. Really. No excuses.

This is what I saw on the walk home Friday…

And I wanna fly, too…

We’re Gonna Get Through It Together

Thirty-four years ago today, I met San Geraldo. At that time, I didn’t know he was a saint. Nor did I know he was descended from an actual saint (King Ferdinand III), and from a multitude of kings and queens (Eleanor of Aquitaine, for one).

To tell the truth, especially in our first months together, if anyone had told me “Jerry” was I saint, I would have laughed. Well, OK, if anyone now misses my sense of irony in these saintly references, I still laugh. However, I did immediately know somehow that whatever his flaws (and there are so few), he would be worth every minute we would spend together. If you haven’t been keeping up, click here for our history.


We’re supposed to be at Sandpiper’s Restaurant in Fuengirola tonight celebrating our 34th anniversary in the company of our wonderful friends. But, since the Dowager Duchess had other ideas (not within her control) about where we should be for the summer, we’re spending a quiet evening in her apartment (while she continues to make strides at Rehab). San Geraldo will cook dinner (pesto chicken and pasta) and I will gladly clean up the mess he makes in the kitchen.

I’m hoping to get back to reading and writing more regularly. Meanwhile, all my attention tonight will be focused on San Geraldo… with gratitude for these 34 years of love and adventure (and punchlines).

We’ll muddle through whatever we do…

Except For The Hernia

All is well here. Or, as my friend Seine Judeet might say, all is well“except for the hernia.”

(Click any image to make little things grow.)


“You got to speak your mind if you dare…”