This is part two of a longer story. Read part one here.
In the middle of the forest, no one hears me scream.
I’m told I will know my corneal erosion healed from the anterior stromal puncture after about eight weeks. The procedure was seven weeks ago.
The Milky Way paints the sky with the absence of city lights, and the mountain is silent — minus the sound of my haphazard human howling.
I’m alone in a tent with zero medical supplies or mirrors, so I have no idea how bad the damage is. All I know is my cornea healed for seven weeks, and my eyelid just ripped off the healing in my sleep a few moments ago. …
I turn into Leadville and my watch tells me that the air quality is “unhealthy.” I respond by pushing the gas down harder, which in a Crosstrek is more of a dramatic gesture than a way to go any faster.
The week is not going as expected. Due to several setbacks of no one’s fault, we just cancelled a week-long camping trip in Colorado’s southwestern area and now I have several days off without much to show for it. I throw together a quick solo hiking trip for myself as an attempt to salvage some of the time off.
As someone who loves finishing a good list, I have hopes to hike all of Colorado’s 14,000-foot tall mountains at some point in my life. So far, 16 are checked off, with 42 to go. (Note: The list varies by person, I follow the list of 58.) These hikes aren’t the safest activity in the world, so I go with others (or at least a dog). …
It feels like Freddy Kruger pays a visit every night.
In the era of BLM and COVID-19, my problems are minimal at best. I am fortunate enough to be in a safe home with a comfortable bed, and I feel confident that I will be healthy (and employed) in the morning. But morning is far away.
Eye drops, ointments, gels, and pastes litter the floor around me. …