20/25; blind knitting; oyster mushrooms; wild mushrooms

I survived. Lasek is a very strange experience. I needed two valium. I could have had three.

I didn't feel a thing. The doctor kept telling me not to blink. Try not to blink, he kept saying. Afterwards, my boyfriend told me, How is it that a doctor with four college degrees doesn't understand that blinking is an uncontrolled reflex?

I took a lot of pills; I took a lot of drops. I kept my eyes closed, as much as I was able, for six days. Keeping your eyes closed is supposed to speed recovery of the "mortally wounded" epithelium cells that have been killed by an alcohol solution during the surgery. Because these cells are still regenerating, my vision is less than perfect; yesterday, at the one-week post-op, the doctor said I was seeing 20/25; he says I should be 20/20 by next week or by the end of this week if I'm lucky.

He forbids me from using my eyes too much until I am seeing normally again.

Meanwhile, my socks-in-progress droop in my knitting basket.

I tried to knit blind. But stitches slip so easily.

Maybe I should try to make something with big needles and big yarn; maybe I should make a scarf.

Since I don't have any knitting pictures to post, I'm giving you a little treat from my vacation in Thailand.

What you're seeing above are oyster mushrooms, grown by my aunt (the same aunt for whom I knitted socks). My aunt also goes into the forests to collect wild mushrooms, an activity that she and my mother enjoyed as children. Here are some wild mushrooms that my aunt and mother collected:


My mother had the opportunity to share in this joy again with her sister. My mother was slightly disturbed that she could not collect the wild mushrooms with the same efficiency as my aunt. Apparently, the mushrooms camouflage themselves so well into the forest foliage that they are difficult to make out.