Dear god, the things that happen to our bodies as we move from mid-life to, well, shall we say, later mid-life. No matter how good a shape we're in (or think we're in), there's always some devious reminder--call it the imp of the perverse (see Poe's short story), if you will--lying in wait to deliver a painful jolt of reality. During my seemingly endless convalescence from the self-inflicted misadventure of the broken rib, I have found myself reading more than my usual book a week, no small feat, given that the nasty spill seems also to have dislodged a retina, unhinged a cataract or else spawned some other catastrophe in my left eye. If you wear glasses, imagine someone smearing a vaseline-drenched finger across one lens and you'll get the general idea. I'd have been howling about this sooner but the broken rib was of sufficient torture that I figured my eyesight would clear up once the pain (and the blur of the pain meds) lifted. 

But, no. 

It looks like the the contretemps in Tampa is turning out to be the gift that keeps on giving. Because, in addition to my appointment with an ophthalmologist in a couple of weeks, I now find myself seeking the services of a urologist to check out my sudden lackadaisical flow which, in a recent turn of events, takes forever to get started and then dribbles on incessantly whilst I count backwards from 1,000. This is especially vexing because it generally occurs in the middle of the night, already a prime time for maximum kidney action. Not only that, the urge to empty my bladder hits every 20 minutes. All. Night. Long. I have been advised that this slow flow is a side effect of the muscle relaxers and pain relievers I was taking, albeit not one in any apparent haste to go away. Great. Just exactly how I'd hoped to spend our upcoming anniversary--fractured, wall-eyed and urinarily challenged. Will we be toasting each other with Flomax on our big night? If that doesn't spell romance then I don't know what does. 

On a side note: the pain pills and muscle relaxers have been relegated to the elephant's graveyard of old and discarded meds that occupy an entire shelf of one kitchen cabinet. Also, much to C's relief, I have learned my lesson and will henceforth not willingly participate in any endeavors requiring me to gallop, leap, sally forth, high kick, or, otherwise, contort myself into positions that might duly inflict injury and/or fatal results. 

I'd actually planned to discuss recent reads in this post but staring at the computer screen while detailing my recent woes has pretty much put the kibosh on elucidating on that. Suffice it to say, I'm happy that I'm still able to read and watch TV, although my driving anywhere is currently so far off the table my car may as well be in Uzbekistan.