Who would have thought finding an eye patch to wear with glasses would prove so daunting a task?

But that has indeed been the case: all the kinds of eye patches we’ve looked at either don’t fit, or they don’t lie flat on the Baron’s eye so that his glasses can perch as usual, allowing him the use of his one good eye.

Besides the eye patch, another remedy is the occasional extra glass of red wine in the evening. Oh, and practicing how to wait patiently. How does one achieve ‘patience’ in the face of what becomes terror if we dwell on it? Be darned if I know, but I’ll tell you what we’re learning…

This is about waiting to know what the future will be, right? Waiting to see if the judge commutes your sentence. Waiting to see if you pass the tax audit. Waiting for… well, feel free to add your own experience of terror.

[I had two of them: waiting to see if my cancer would recur — it didn’t — and an interminable car ride to my daughter’s house to see if the medics had revived her. They had left for town with her body by the time we arrived on the scene but partway there I already knew at some level that she was gone and out of reach so the terror was replaced with numbness.]

Feel free to add you own experiences with terror, with the pacing-waiting-praying-bargaining dance.

There is one partial answer to all the angst, and that’s humor. The sillier the better. Even gallows humor is fine.

For example: I was in the kitchen today preparing dinner and the Baron was at the table making one of his eye patches prior to going up to his office. After taping the thing on, he came over and put his arm around me. He said in a solemn voice, “Pardon me, ma’am, do you know the way to the Kingdom of the Blind?” Without missing a beat I responded, “Why? Are you planning on ascending the throne?” Yeah, I stepped on his line there, but he was pleased I’d gotten the reference. As in, “would you rather be funny or be understood?” And that’s how we’re surviving the wait — and the weight — of this terror.

Meanwhile, last week the Lurker in Tulsa sent a great video, just what we needed. I’ve watched it several times — if you have a TV you’ve probably seen it already. It still makes me laugh, as it obviously does others, too. I think it has about a million and a half views:

Again, feel free to share links to your own favorite funny videos. The more bizarre, the better. The Lurker has just the right touch when it comes to providing funny fare, so this gives you some idea of what I have in mind. British humor at its best is often like that, too.

Meanwhile, I am coming to appreciate the repetitious prayers of my childhood. Just as I did whilst going through the chilling aloneness of chemotherapy, I have pulled out my rosary again. For those of us so inclined, there is a wisdom and comfort in repetition, especially if those comforts originate in childhood pastimes. No, it’s not mindless at all, although I’m sure it looks like that to the outsider.

From the inside the experience is quite different. Rather like getting older: when I was a kid, I couldn’t see how old people — the ones around forty or so — could have anything left to look forward to. And when I’d ask, I’d be told the usual, “Just wait till you get there. It will seem different then”. And so it is with waiting, too: you just have to get here and you find ways to move through it.

Amazing, innit?

And thank you for all the kind notes.