Let Me Tell You About Surgery

In yesterday's blog I casually mentioned that Husband had cataract surgery.

The event, however; was far from casual.

Husband has a "thing" about is eyes. Before I got lazy and wore contact lenses, he would have to leave the bathroom when I put them in my eyes. He eventually learned to stay, but only if he didn't look at me. If  he looked, his eyes would immediately pour water.

If I'm twenty feet away from him and point at something, he responds dramatically by covering his face and saying, with great heat, "You could have put one of my eyes out!"

You get the picture.

So, he's put off this surgery to the point that all he could see out of that eye was blur. Nighttime driving became impossible because the lights were so bright and blurred, he couldn't see anything else.

Finally his nearly 88 year old mother-in-law shamed him into it when he had to take her for a follow up. At least he liked this doctor and after  much sweating, made an appointment for the surgery.

It was, as everyone told him, a piece of cake.

Unfortunately, he has to have drops put in his eye three times a day. Three different kinds. And you have to wait two minutes in between each drop.

Let me say this has not been easy. On me, not him.

First of all, he gives me all this cra detailed instructions about how to do it. Again. From four hours previous. For five days. Over and over.

The grunts and groanings he makes, even before I start with the drops, is akin to a woman in the throes of labor while she lies on a bed of nails, only worse.

Can I take this for sixteen more days without doing bodily harm to Husband?

Only time will tell, I suppose.

Gotta go. It's time for more drops.

Pray, people, pray!

Shopping

Yesterday I went with Husband for his post-op appointment with the doctor. Not to worry, he had a cataract removed, he can see better, all is well.

However; after the appointment, we grabbed a bite to eat. As some of you know, I can't sit for a long time, and by then it had been a long time, mostly sitting.

So I suggested we go in a local department store for ten minutes or so. That way I could walk a little and get on home. Also, since Husband is having his fifty year high school reunion in June, I wanted to see about new clothes. (Yes, he is hundreds of years older than I).

After wandering around in the desert of decent clothing, Husband found me. "I don't think I've ever seen so many ugly clothes in my life." I said to him.

Husband just shook his head, so I asked him was it me and he said, "Nooooo - these are really ugly clothes."

Now, I ain't inferring that either of us are fashion experts. But I am telling you, I ain't that hard to please. And these clothes were ugly.

I'm not talking about a rinky dink cheap shop, either. These ugly clothes were expensive. More than I'd pay for most attractive clothing. 

The only decent thing I saw were women's undies. They had some real purdies there, what there was of them, if you know what I mean.

The issue I have is most my clothes are old. Like as old as my daughter old.

My dressy clothes are circa 1999.

My newer clothes (what few I have) are falling off me since I lost twenty pounds, and my older clothes that actually fit again are falling off me because they are slap wore out and rot's set in.

I reckon I'll have to keep searching to find a "casual" outfit for this shindig. At least I have till the end of June.

Hey! At least they are all so old they won't even notice.

Right?

Whadda ya mean, they've only a few years older'n  me?

Hmmph!

Art! Poetry! Music!

I am very excited to be a part of an art exhibition opening up tomorrow at Gilmer Arts. Candy Crawford Day will be showing over forty pieces of beautiful art. At the beginning of the show, I am honored to be reading some of the poetry that Lucy Harris penned, which were inspired by pieces of art. 

The whole thing should be a rip roaring good time, and I hope if you  like poetry, or you like art, or you  like  music or you  just like to support the local artists who work so hard, that you will drop in and spend a few minutes with us.

Candy says:

Getting close to Friday and the opening of my hometown show at Gilmer Arts in Ellijay. The special part of this show is the inclusion of Lucy Harris' poetry, with readings by Kathi Harper Hill and a song performed by Noah May. All the work in this show will feature local people and places.....thus the title "Where The Heart Is". Hope you'll stop by this Good Friday, from 4 to 7, 207 Dalton Street, Ellijay GA 30540

I Am Gobsmacked

Truly, I am.

Gobsmacked, that is.

I just read a recent review on amazon about my latest book, "Bensy and Me". 

The lady who wrote it is a great writer herself. Her poetry will bring you to your knees.

She taught creative writing as her profession before she retired a few years ago.

On top of everything else, she's a hoot.

It's hard for me to brag about my own work, in fact, it's even hard for me to try and sell my own work. I'd never make a living as a salesman of any kind. It's just darned embarrassing.

However; this is something even I want to shout from the rooftops. Not only because of what was said, but who said it.

So, here goes:

Lucy Harris here. I struggle to do justice to this wonderful masterwork of Southern humor. I have been reading daily since I was six years old - I am now sixty-five, and for most of my reading years I have clearly understood how difficult it is for a book to shake loose a deep belly-laugh. In my vast reading experience, only a few have succeeded though many have tried. Yet, Bensy and Me has at least one big laugh and sometimes many more per page. I know because I put a check mark on each page which contained at least one. I giggled as I read the author's note in the front, and then as directed, turned to Uncle Wend's Dictionary in the back - been laughing ever since. This is the only book I have ever read slowly because I wanted to savor the surprise and delight. I would not allow myself to read more than a few pages a day. I kept thinking, "This can't go on," but it does. From first page to last, it is purely filled with light, not to mention small town love, wisdom, and plain old-fashioned good, clean living. The cast of characters spans a country mile but centers on the reflections of a man who many call Charlie as he is thinking, "I hate being called Charlie," through the regular ups and downs of being the proud father of six children, four of whom are delivered as quadruplets at the beginning of the story. How Ms. Harper squeezed so many twists and turns and so much laughter out of plain old life is a hilarious mystery to me (which often involves cows, hair salons, Christmas - I could go on), but I am so glad she did; and if you have any sense at all, you’ll get a copy and find out what I mean.

Thank you, dear, sweet woman. Thank you.

What? I can't say ! What is that? I can't see it.

Well, as we say here in Appalachia, I been real sick.

Husband had it first - respiratory, drifting into bronchitis. Then Daughter had it, sans bronchitis.

Then it was my turn, with bronchitis and laryngitis.

As soon as you stop all your corny jokes about how that sure did give Husband a well earned vacation from all my yakking, consider this:

I can't hear well, so he has to be in close proximity to speak. I can't see well without  my glasses, so if I'm reading, he has to get close for me to see. And with the ability to speak only in a whisper for five days, guess how close he had to be to hear me? 

I guess he ain't as lucky as you thought.

But all things pass, and I woke up with a voice yesterday. 

I still ain't at full throttle, so don't expect any yodeling any time soon.