The other day I had another retinal procedure, this time (apparently) to continue the repair on last month’s tears. There were 3 and I gather the seal wasn’t as effective as it should have been. So more time in the chair, more time with lasers, more pain (not from the lasers, really, though I find them uncomfortable; but the system used to pull the eye forward to reach the area of the tears is kind of excruciating), and no real sense of whether this will ever come to an end. I asked the wrong question and the ophthalmologist became very abrupt and impatient. It’s the first time I’ve cried during one of these appointments. I hope it’s the last.
We stayed in Vancouver overnight and yesterday morning I went to buy a few supplies for a dyeing project this fall. I have coarse linen and some indigo powder but I bought some more, as well as some clear red sashiko thread and a package of shorter needles. I’m not quite sure what I’ll be doing but I need to take my mind away from the lasers and implements and the sense of not being an actual person in the room where the procedures take place. While I was searching for some fabric I dyed the summer before the one we’re just leaving, I found a length of linen I’d waxed a swirl of fish onto before dyeing it with woad. I’m wondering what will happen if I over-dye this with indigo. I’d like those fish to have deep blue water.
This morning the news is filled with Russia’s missile strike on the Ukrainian village of Hroza, population around 300. At least 51 are dead. They were sitting down for a meal at a cafe as part of a memorial service when the missiles hit, reducing the cafe and an adjacent shop to rubble. When I chose the red thread from the basket holding skeins of every colour, maybe I knew I wanted to sew my memories of Ukraine into the next quilt, in the spirit of the rushnyk or ritual cloths used for every important moment in a life: to celebrate birth, fertility, marriage, to wrap a loaf of bread, to cover the faces of the dead. When I sew with this deep red thread, I’ll remember the people of Hroza, of Bucha, of Mariupol, Vorzel, Kharkiv. Red thread, the red kalyna, the beautiful lament, accompanied by bandura.
Oh, in the meadow a red kalyna has bent down low,
For some reason, our glorious Ukraine is in sorrow.
And we’ll take that red kalyna and we will raise it up.
...Theresa Kishkan 
Oh dear, that sounds awful. I can’t imagine how a question could be so wrong as to elicit that kind of impatient and wounding response. This is healthcare, health + care. /hugs
Thanks, Marcie. I have to go every month and am dreading the next one! But maybe I’ll be lucky — and I won’t ask any questions….