Okay then, gingerly back in the saddle with the aid of the largest size text possible and on a big computer screen that I am struggling to see right now. I am my way back though, the five minutes are just about up although working on a computer isn’t that easy and won’t be for a few weeks yet. On it all goes, this was all kind of (vaguely) explained in the previous post. Haven’t been inside a gallery for over a week now and pandemic aside, I can’t remember that happening in years and years – I did go off and spend some quiet conversation time with Mr Turner and his later work (on the Sunday before my eye operation) just in case it was to be the last time I could actually see them, after all there were no guarantees and it didn’t exactly go well last time with the other eye, there was only one left to gamble with and that is really what it felt like, one big gamble, should I stick or should I twist?

And so last Wednesday morning, six days ago now, after a rather sleepless night or two, we took ourselves off on the 55 bus for a 7.30am appointment at Moorfields Eye Hospital. Moorfields, the place I spent (or was robbed of) a substantial part of my late teenage years. I’ve been back to Moorfields many many times since for check ups, for an emergency or two, for several stronger contact lens fittings for my one still working eye as things slowly got worse (we gave up on the other one years ago after seven failed operations over a couple of very frustrating years, I’ve lived with the mess made and the fallout from it ever ever since, the punch up with Marilyn Manson over eyes was one of the more colourful episodes). 

So last week we sat with a doctor at 7.30am, we went through the risks and the options for one last time, the truth is my vision had got a lot worse since the start of the year, there realistically wasn’t any other option than to get on with it. I maybe could have gone on for another year with the deteriorating vision I had left, we had no real idea how much worse it would get during that year if I was to opt to stick with what I had for now and the downside of sticking rather than twisting was that delaying further made the eventually inevitable operation more and more difficult, now was the time was the advise.   The consent form was nervously signed and before I could give it too much more thought off I was taken to the operating theatre.

I won’t bore you with all the details, of course it was a worry, of course I was nervous.  Everything seems to have gone well, having to sit in a room with my eyes all bandaged and blindfolded straight after the operation was “interesting”, waiting to see if everything was okay, to see if the procedure had worked. Sitting there not knowing, not being able to see anything. Sitting there for what seemed like an endless three hours, senses heightened, all kinds of drama around me, no discomfort. The Moorfields tea was awful and in a cardboard cup, tea in a cardboard cup is inhumane.  And then the nurse quietly said, with no sense of theatre or no big build up, “time to take off the bandages Mr Worrall” and yes! I could still see. It was rather blurred and watery, it was rather raw but yes, there it was, almost an anti-climax, my one still working eye still working.

And so here we are, six days on, the vision is getting better everyday, so far so good, things are settling down, things are getting more comfortable (actually it hasn’t been that uncomfortable), a non-stop cocktail of eye-drops, a slightly nervous first opening of the eye every morning, yes it still works, well so far anyway (but I have been here before with the other eye).  No wearing a contact lens yet, so I can’t really tell what I actually have. The main aim was just to arrest the decline, to stop things getting any worse, and maybe get a little bit of improvement. No contact lens until a check up on April 18th and I’ve always had rotten vision without a contact lens anyway, not really enough to venture out. It really is a struggle to see to write this, or to use anything other than a phone three inches from my nose right now. I can paint, I can’t really see what I am painting, well I can take photos and look on my phone, only big abstract things, fresh layers, small pieces, Tens and such. Can’t even think  about organising shows although I am starting to….                         

So far so good, on with the tentative trying to see what I can paint  and the avoiding of the seven bloodhounds and that final horse called anarchy (for now). More soon (hopefully)