Botched cataracts surgery

Wake up around 5am to get ready to go to the follow-up of the follow-up of the follow-up of the follow-up exam at the eye doctor’s in Oakland. Still dealing, two weeks later, from the fall-out from my botched cataracts surgery. It’s one of those annoying things in life where you have to expend a large amount of energy — not to improve your situation but — just in the hopes that you could get back to the way you were before you got immersed in this mess. On top of that. It’s somebody else’s fault. Not mine. But I’m the one who has to deal with it. Adding an extra note of sourness to the proceedings.

But that’s just life (he says, philosophically, as well as a bit sardonically). I was practically screaming at the top of my lungs a couple days ago: “THIS LIFE CAN BE SO UNFAIR!!” over a terrible tragedy a friend of mine is enduring. You try to find some perspective to deal with the travails — big and small — that we all have to deal with. Often there are no answers. “It just is what it is.” And the perennial: “Deal with this, motherfucker.”

It can help to have cats around. They just sit there purring. Like they effortlessly have come up with a philosophy that works, that makes sense of it all.

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