This morning, finally, I will see a primary care physician for a physical. My last physical was in December 2013, if memory serves me correctly. I intend, always, to get annual physicals, but intentions cannot buy rainbows. Or something along those lines.
Actually, I’ve had more visits with doctors of late than I’d like. I’ve been to see an ophthalmologist twice since the beginning of the year. The first time was for what I believed to be a flare-up of map-dot fingerprint dystrophy that turned out, instead, to be an early-onset cataract in my right eye. The second time was for a follow-up and to schedule the removal of said cataract, which will take place next month, followed by removal of the one in the other eye shortly thereafter.
On the good news side, my sister is coming to visit for a week at the end of August. And I began reading a new book last night, Everything I Never Told You, by Celeste Ng. Oh, and I suppose I should acknowledge the prospect of much better vision in short order.
This morning, I’ve spent time reading about murder at sea, courtesy of an article in the New York Times, and about a paper written by a Canadian professor of psychology who created a writing assignment that changes lives.
Earlier this morning, just after I got up, I read an answer to a question on Quora, describing the “T box,” an area of the face which, according to the author, if struck by a bullet of any calibre, will result in instant death. Morbid stuff, that, as was the piece on murder at sea, captured on video.
My creative juices are languishing this morning, but I hope they’ll be in full bloom by the time I get to the “What’s Next” Personal Interest Group (PIG) meeting this afternoon to talk about processes and plans to get one’s books published.
Hope all went well with your physical and there are no new surprises