My angel reading series continues with a little throwback from a beautiful September day in my old garden. And this one feels really pertinent for the beginning of the week when we usually are planning and creating our intentions.
Today’s word from my angel reading discs is CLARITY.
But what does clarity really mean? Is it having all the answers, or is it something quieter: seeing what is already there, without the fog of fear, expectation, or wishful thinking?
Sometimes clarity doesn’t arrive as an answer. Sometimes it arrives as a feeling that you simply can’t ignore. It can be subtle or it can hit you over the head like a frying pan. The thing that they share in common is that whatever felt murky and in the shadows has come to light. It may not be a full blazing light show, but at least it’s the first rays of the sun leading the way.
And sometimes clarity can actually be physiological. I had my first cataract surgery on my left eye last week, and it was a revelation of metaphysical, metaphorical, and physical clarity.
I’ve worn glasses since I was nine years old and in my late teens, I started wearing contact lenses and when I started to get dry eye during my menopausal years, I figured I’d start wearing glasses again and there are so many beautiful styles. And in recent years acquired a collection of all kinds of glasses, sunglasses, lightly tinted glasses you name it all colors and styles.
The second day after the surgery with the new multifocal lens, I didn’t need any kind of glasses. My right eye was obviously still in need of correction but the first time I could see in the distance with a clarity I have not had since who knows may be very early childhood. It felt like a miracle.
My entire experience was a delight. I’ll admit, I was nervous with the idea of someone poking around in my eye, but all my fears were unfounded. The hospital in Dobbs Ferry, New York is the only one I have been to since I moved to New York 25 years ago.
There was an incident of a cat scratch from volunteering at a shelter, an emergency visit with heart palpitations, which necessitated an overnight stay.
It’s a small hospital and there was no cardiologist on duty so they kept me overnight and to make a long story short. I was there for three days and honestly it felt like a bit of a spa visit. I had my own room. The food was good and all was well in the end.
On this visit, what was different was the procedure when you’re having surgery. I must have spoken to at least eight people from the admitting department to various nurses, administrators, orderlies, the anesthesiologist and of course finally my doctor. Everyone, according to protocol, asked me my first and last name my date of birth, and which eye was to be operated on.
I didn’t notice until afterwards, the black mark above my left eye. I assumed it was an X to indicate the left eye, but it turns out it was my doctor’s initials. I joked with him that he’s signing his work like an artist.
Being poked and prodded is never much fun. Whoever administered the IV was a magician. I did not even feel the needle prick. But I noticed the wristbands were different from years ago.
And why oh why can someone not design a more beautiful hospital gown?
I think my favorite part was being wheeled around on a gurney through different corridors corners and elevator, and because I didn’t have my glasses on everything was a bit of a dreamy blur. There was something very regressive with some distant memory of being wheeled in a baby carriage or stroller, and it felt wonderfully infantile and protected.
And when the orderly asked if I wanted a heated blanket and tucked it in around me, I felt nurtured in a way that I have not felt in many years.
In many ways, it was a threshold experience. Every cubicle, office, hospital room, changing room, getting undressed while a nurse placed my clothes and handbag in a closet, needing help getting into the hospital gown, the cozy socks, the bathroom, gurney, operating room felt like a portal when I left it to go to the next one, I would not be the same as I was before and indeed after the surgery and as I was wheeled back to a quiet private hospital room to have a snack and drink to recover and get changed back into my street clothes, there was such a distinct before, and after of arriving at the hospital and leaving being wheeled in a wheelchair out to a waiting car, I knew I was not the same person as when I arrived.
Such was my clarity.
I hope this week brings you the clarity that you seek.
xo,
Layla
P.S. I have much gratitude for the exemplary service and care at St. John’s Riverside Hospital Dobbs Ferry Pavilion
and for Dr. Joseph Castellano Jr. His father has been my ophthalmologist for 25 years and his son has masterfully followed in his footsteps.
