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!

Eye See

When I was in sixth grade my class took a test. A short while later, a strange lady came to the door and called my name and another student's name and asked that we please go with her.

It seems Billy, the other student, and I had failed this test and we were being given letters to take home to give to our parents to inform them of this.

Of course, when we came back to the room, everyone knew we'd failed. I'm sure the others were busily thinking up names to call us as soon as recess came around.

You see, it was an eye test.

I immediately began to rebel inside. I was not, I thought to my self, going to wear stupid glasses.

This was a time when almost no child wore glasses. I think maybe one girl in my class did, but I'm not even sure of that.

I reckon lots of children walked around half-blind back then. Either that or kids have glasses now at the blink of an eye.

I was soon taken to an ophthalmologist who did a very thorough examination and determined that although I was near sighted, it was not severe enough to wear glasses - yet.

It wasn't until eighth grade that I was given reading glasses. I only needed them for blackboard work, or if I had to sit way in the back for something - say, church, or a concert, or a play.

That wasn't too bad. I always tried to make sure I was up front in class so I didn't have to wear them. I ignored the other times.

Then suddenly, when I was about twenty-nine I couldn't see the television clearly even with my eighth grade glasses.

This scared me and I went to the doctor. He examined my eyes and was pretty alarmed himself. He was concerned that my eyes had so suddenly gotten worse, and feared I'd be in bi-focals before I was thirty if this decline continued at the rate I'd reported.

Bi-focals? For a twenty-nine year old? I thought not! (see how much I matured between the ages of eleven and twenty-nine?)

I wore the glasses all the time, except when I ate. For some reason I couldn't tolerate that.

Then I got contacts. Wow! Magic. I could see perfectly. Better than with my specs.

Now? Either my contacts need changing or I'm getting so lazy I don't care and just slap on my glasses.

Maybe both.

I'm due an exam and I guess he'll tell me what I need.

I read without the aid of anything because I'm so  near-sighted the "arms-aren't-long-enough" syndrome never happened. But three feet out, everything is a blur.

I was thinking about all this because my mother had a cataract removed last week, and Holy cow! She has to have a million drops put in every day. A friend is staying with her for two weeks, which I appreciate. That way no one is having to keep the roads hot back and forth to administer said drops.

She can already see much better.

I read (without my glasses) that people with "sky eyes" get cataracts more often. That means those with grey or blue eyes. "Earth eyes" are green (like mine) and brown.

So maybe I'll be saved from failing, yet again, another eye test.

I don't know how much more failure I can take.