I’d describe the last two months of my life as sort of a nervous breakdown in slow motion. . . The botched cataracts surgery has been like an ongoing nightmare. Which I’m still dealing with. I already had deep anxiety about my eyesight before the surgery, what with my glaucoma and the very real possibility of going blind. And now the botched cataracts surgery has added another layer to the stress. At the least, one of my eyes is permanently disfigured (which is painful to accept). But at this point, that pales compared to my primary concern with salvaging the vision in my one good eye. If that eyes goes ka-blink, I’ll really be in the soup. . . Yet another eye exam on Friday — in a seemingly endless series of eye exams. Trying to deal with this shit. It’s like trying to pull myself out of a hole. . . Hate Man used to always say (it was one of his enduring, endlessly repeated catch-phrases): “Life is a battle. It’s a war.” You’ve just got to keep battling, keep trying to move forward. Though it often seems like you’re just blundering and staggering forward. Trying to roll with the punches as best you can.
On top of that, one of my best friends recently got hit with a truly heartbreaking tragedy. Which was like a double-whammy. Getting blind-sided by that when I was already reeling from the other thing. Dealing with all the after-effects of that. It’s one of those situations where there’s no answers. All you can do is absorb the punishment as best you can.
On top of that, the world in general seems to be going insane. At times it seems like the fabric of American society is breaking apart. Like we’ve truly entered some kind of pre-apocalypse nightmare realm. You glance at the news. “The massive dark cloud in the sky overhead the city is from the huge fire at an Oakland homeless encampment.” Or headlines about crimes that are so horrific you question the basic state of humanity. Like madness coming at you from every direction.
Wake up this morning from this eerie dream. I’m wanted by the police, I’m on the run, I’m hiding out in the deserted warehouse areas of the city, trying to make my way from one point to another without being detected by the authorities. Skulking in the shadows, alone. Trying to find an escape route to somewhere. Anywhere. The dream goes on like that for hours. . . Wake up from the dream. Just lay here staring up at the blank white sky. Mini Scaredy, my beloved feral cat, is sleeping down by my feet, she wakes up too, comes over to me, purring, looking for some petting. Which is nice. At least there are some things that are still nice. . . Start writing this post. Just to try and string out all the things that have been happening to me lately, just to try to make sense of it all in my mind. Sometimes that’s all you can do. Remind myself to add that I’m not seeking sympathy, assistance or advice, to prevent my more well-meaning Facebook friends from going there. Who I’m sure have enough troubles of their own. I’m mostly just writing for myself. Sometimes that’s all you can do. . .
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