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!