Poem about a Cataract Operation by Toddy Hoare
I’m totally at your mercy
When you look into my eye.
You anticipate consultation
Exercising no emotion
Save a welcome, then you scanned
To capture information
For specialists to have to hand.
A procedure promises transformation
Clearing the vision and changing the situation.
Like weathermen forecast mist
Dispersing, to see better I insist
You add me to that surgery list.
The Window Cleaners.
Ascetically assessed anaesthetist consents;
Mortal sedated, spirit calmed, brain at rest
Dreamless sleep anticipated,
With no knowledge of procedure,
Measured to match marching time.
Much patting back of hand
Fixing reluctant cannula second attempt.
Fiona asks what activity would replace
Today’s ritual. Writing poetry, sermon,
Some sculpture, walking the dog.
What sort of dog? Hers is a terrier
Mr Hildebrand takes my eye pressures;
Simon raising my lower legs in the bed cranks.
Blank, not black…..Blank. Thanks.
Nurse’s head, face unseen, codeine.
Water by tube in recovery room; float.
Stinging eye, mouth dry, sore throat,
Toes are warm in funny red socks, now seen.
Wheeled back wardwards nothing noticed
Though gowned I walked t’other way.Drowsy.
New-lensed eye sees all in blue haze
As if underwater in clean swimming pool.
All should clear this passing phase.
Teeth stick, paste-like sandwich clogs the mouth.
Vague normality returns. Michael’s instructions: medication.
Home, rest, temporary constipation.
Light too dazzling, gradual acclimatisation.
Remove dark glasses to see in high definition.
Written by Toddy Hoare
Published by Olympia Publishers
26/04/2018 – £6.99 – Paperback
In this eclectic mixture of sonnets, Toddy Hoare draws on his personal knowledge and experiences of life, Christianity, the arts and the beauty of nature. He takes us on a journey through Greek mythology to the Bible, from Yorkshire to Oxford to Marrakech, from nature to love and family. There are life experiences from dog walks to war, from art to architecture, from mindfulness to falling out. There are many
moods and insights portrayed with something for every taste and mood.
Toddy Hoare trained as a sculptor and was freelance for three years until recession in the mid-1970s made such a living impossible so joined the 15/19th King’s Royal Hussars to pay his debts, serving in Northern Ireland. Ordination followed via The Missions to Seamen in Holland and Wycliffe Hall, Oxford. After a curacy in Guisborough, he was the curate-in-charge of the Hillside Parishes in North Yorkshire on the Moors near Thirsk for twenty-five years. When his wife, Liz, got a post she could not refuse teaching spiritual formation at Wycliffe Hall Theological College, he retired to concentrate on sculpture once more and exhibit in London. He took up the pen to write poetry whose muse had been largely dormant since art school. He has four children, eight grandchildren, a Labrador, and as much enjoyment of Oxford as there had been of Yorkshire.
Press Contact: Charlie Howell