Writings of Constance Ore ( 1937 – 2010 )

Blood is good, eye is fantastic, and spring is coming! The red-winged blackbirds have sent their scouts, and since their appearance at the bird feeders indicates that they find the accommodations to be acceptable, the rest will be here soon. Meadow larks and finches have joined the cardinal’s morning songs and for just a little while, Sanctuary will be as fine as any tourist destination. (Post snow and ice, pre ticks and mosquitoes) Alphie runs through the pasture and every corner of the forest tail up, nose down, and radiating delight. When he can make a pheasant fly from its hiding spot, or chase a rabbit out from under an Austrian pine his morning is sublime. The walks are ever new and interesting in his company.

Time goes so quickly when it is lived in this peculiar frame of eight weeks; in just eleven days, the cycle begins again. Usually by this time I have almost forgotten the reality of living with cancer, and the necessary procedures that keep it at bay. The terribly wounded veterans that have returned from the Iraq war are on my mind a lot because I think that I am whole in ways that they will never be again, and they have many years before them. God’s gifts of a sound body and mind are so fine and doing life from within them is such a blessing – the prayers go on that somehow we can figure out how to celebrate this without destroying it for so many. I am repeatedly thankful that I am given new mornings and days to enjoy all the good things that are mine – to springtime, to Sanctuary, to LIFE!

Yesterday morning we awakened to find that the night snows and winds had transported us to the enchanted kingdom of the Snow Queen. Every branch and stem had a covering of snow and the house and garden became a part of a place where shape and design defined everything. When Alphie and I walked across the pasture and into the forest, the wind was still at work pushing and pulling the wet snow into new patterns with a fierce determination. Roads and schools were closed and the usual human activities had to be set aside for the day. Now, as I look out the front windows, the snows and winds are making a final statement with moments of near white out conditions. The birds are very busy at the feeders in spite of the wind and snow – these are times when they must eat and eat to withstand the long and cold nights.

I had the cataract removal and lens implant surgery this morning and all went well. The local hospital had a very efficient team preparing six of us for the operations that would take place at half hour intervals. I was the second one of the morning, and the day began for me at 7:10 AM when I was led into a room divided by curtains. The usual paper work ensued, with my assurances that I had fasted since midnight and all insurance cards were recorded while my blood pressure, temperature, etc., were taken. I could hear everything that was taking place next to me where the first patient of the day was getting prepared. Thus I knew the steps that would soon be taken with myself as well. . .first, the placement of the IV, then the injection of the medication which would cause one to become less than alert, “Now, off to La La Land!” I heard the nurse announce gaily to the unseen person lying quite near. I had already established that it was an older man since I heard the name and reading of the birth date as listed on the wrist identification band and I noted that he didn’t begin to giggle or become “la la –ish” and that was a relief. Then the conversation indicated an injection into the side of the head to deaden, and dilation of the eye. After I was given the initial shot, I didn’t feel any of the following actions.

I knew that I was wheeled into the operation room where I had a tube of oxygen taped on, and a heavy plastic covering placed over my face entirely with just the left eye exposed. The removal of the cataract and the lens implanting took place without any feeling though I could hear the conversation of the doctor and the nurses. They spoke of their teen children taking the ACT tests, the scores, the career plans and the parental hopes for them. There was a great deal of color during the procedure; first, very bright purple dots appeared in a circular pattern that danced about and then disappeared to be replaced by swirls of bright yellow which looked like banners moving briskly in a wind. I heard a sound that resembled a small drill but I felt no pressure or vibration of any kind so it wasn’t at all daunting. In a very short time, the doctor announced that the operation was complete. The sheet was removed, and an eye patch was taped over the eye. This patch is not black and mysterious but actually resembles a feminine hygene product covering the better part of the left side of my face. It is in place now and I am to wear it until tomorrow morning when it will be removed and the eye will be examined. I begin taking eye drops of antibiotics and steroids in order to ward off infection. These will continue for several weeks. I believe that this surgery may be yet another miracle with the possibility of 20/20 vision, something I have never experienced without glasses as I have been near-sighted since early childhood. How blessed we are to live at a time when these things are possible!