The first theory was that the nitrous oxide the surgeon had filled my eye with would be gone four weeks post-surgery, but nope. Wishful thinking.

The gas remained in my eye until a few days past the eight week post-surgical mark before my body evicted the last of it.

It was kind of funny, actually. I could see it when I took my shower (with these gas bubbles, you can see them. You’re not supposed to be able to see through them, but your favorite editor here truly has an eagle eye), and it was small. Really small. The size of some of the breakaway spots I’d gotten to watch early on. I knew that, at last, I’d be free of it. Yes, I’d begun to have doubts. I’d presented it with rent agreements. When those had failed, I’d warned it that it would be evicted.

Twenty minutes after my shower, I looked down and … couldn’t find it. So I waited an hour. Tried again.

Nothing.

I kept trying for a few hours after that, but it didn’t reappear. And the feeling of looking through a drop of water was vanishing, too.

The sexy lime green wristband came off. The car keys came out.

I have my freedom back (but I uh… clearly… need a new prescription to get me over the hump until the refraction), but it may be short-lived. We’ll know more next week.

In the meantime, if you need me, check the garage. If the cars are there, don’t be surprised to find me on a yoga mat.

I have nine weeks of sit-ups, push ups, and planks to make up for.

Oh, and a bike or two to ride.