UPDATE

 My phone rang at 8:30 this morning.  It was the surgeon advising me that my insurance company won't approve tomorrow's scheduled procedure.  Stunned by this news, I listened as he explained that he is appealing the decision.  The insurance company needs two weeks to review the appeal.  SO, here I sit in a sea of salty tears.

Since this morning, I've had time to steer my brain toward a positive mindset.  Perhaps we were spared an accident on the way to the hospital or on the way home.  Who knows.  Regardless, the doctor's sincere concern has me holding onto hope that my eyes can get fixed.

Now, I can't help but think when someone sitting in the judgment seat sees my age plus the word plastic surgeon, they immediately think OLD and VANITY.  Understandable, but not accurate.  Appearance has nothing to do with the two surgeries that will give me back peripheral vision.  From my perspective, this is age discrimination.  Nobody is screaming out the words OLD LIVES MATTER.  Honestly, I can't say I've ever heard those words come out of another human's mouth.

After my doctor told me the news, I tearfully told him that there are thousands of illegal immigrants in our country getting services and money, yet we who have worked to pay our way, earned every penny we've ever had at our disposal, we are denied medical help that we pay for every month.  In response, the doctor said, "Yes, and I'll bet you always paid your bills on time.  It's not right."

For those who are my age, tonight's blog is for us.  We have stepped across the line into the most disconcerting, unfair, frustrating, under-valued stage of our lives.  All we have is the inner strength we have built up over a lifetime.  And, that is what I'm functioning on tonight.  I admit to being so incredibly upset today, yet I've managed to busy my mind and be thankful that I have eyesight, am otherwise healthy, and have the mental ability to categorize my battles.  

For the next two weeks, I will hold onto faith in the surgeon that was divinely assigned to me.  He could be a wise guy who could've written me off and said there's nothing he can do.  But, that's not what he did.  He had already started an appeal on my behalf with the insurance gurus.  It's always interesting to me how sometimes our own families care little about what we're going through, yet a doctor who doesn't really know a person, will speak in caring terms, aimed to soothing their patient's emotional pain.  That is a blessing that I'm squeezing tightly and close to my heart.  

Isn't it interesting how I pour my heart out in this blog?  You see, this is a personal journal, no different than if it had a lock and key and is kept hidden under the mattress.  That is the value of keeping a journal, plus it preserves in book form what it is like to live the various stages of life.  Just maybe, someone someday will read this post and say, "gosh, look what she went through and how she handled it."  That's the guts of my writing.  Honestly, if I was asked to write a novel, I could in no way do that.  I'm a personal experience writer, who writes from the heart and soul.  This isn't a make-believe story that I've dreamed up.  No, it's how life sneaks up on us with upsetting surprises.  These hours later, I can now see the value of the saying "every life touches the other."  Some in good ways, others in bad ways.  When someone hurts us or our feelings, someone will come along to balance with kindness and understanding.  

I'll be back in a few days.  Am going to turtle in until it feels right to emerge.