Everyone knows I had eye surgery last week, so this week’s thoughts are… related.
1) During most doctor office visits the doctors are always really big on letting you know what’s going on. “OK, you’ll feel a little pinch here as we draw the blood. Great, flowing well now… that’s a great vein… one more vial and …. OK, you can relax your arm, you’re all done!” Or – “Alright, there’s going to be a little bit of pressure here. Now maybe a sting as you feel the novocaine going in… and you’ll start to lose feeling little by little… and now you should be just about numb…”
Not so when you’re getting eye surgery.
I laid down and it went like this. “Alright, look up at the light and you’ll be able to see the little red dot of the laser. Just stay focused on that, and if it disappears for a second that’s perfectly normal.” And then… it just got quiet. And then the laser dot disappeared.
And I thought… “They’re not really talking to me. I bet that laser disappeared because they’re scraping my cornea off right now. Oh dear Jesus, they’re scraping my cornea off right now!! NO WONDER THEY DON”T NARRATE!!!”
2) When you have your corneas scraped off you are compensated with drugs. Valium is your friend before surgery, morphine eye-drops that I suspect find other ways into your system are post-op BFF’s, and there’s also one hell of an effective oral painkiller to top it all off. So, having experienced all of these things within a small timeframe, I had… I’ll call them mind pictures. I wasn’t asleep, I just had an interesting series of visuals while my eyes were closed. And one of these, produced as a gift from my librarian brain, was a new addition to the How to Draw series.
Yes, apparently my brain wanted to supply me with a train of sketches for the How to Draw the Well-Adjusted Family, complete with cookouts, playing catch, picnics, and I think there was a canoe trip.
3) I had a VERY odd moment when a repo man showed up at my house while I was recovering. He was looking for a former occupant (I swear) and apparently had dropped by the day of surgery but I didn’t even notice *cough* Valium *cough.* On the 2nd day he showed up my dogs went nuts enough to wake me up and I answered the door and explained that the person didn’t live there anymore. He was a really nice guy who had actually had the same surgery I had so we talked about that for a bit. As he was leaving he says, “I’m really glad you answered the door today. No offense, I know you can’t get around right now because of the surgery, but this is clearly an older home, the yard hasn’t been mowed and your car hasn’t moved since yesterday. If there’s no response and no indication of activity at the home two days in a row, it’s our company policy to call the police to let them know they might want to make sure…. you know… that someone hasn’t died inside the house.”
So I’m REALLY glad I answered the door too, because I definitely didn’t want to explain to the cops why a mid-thirties woman is at home in the middle of the afternoon on a workday, answering the door in her nightgown and robe, wearing Stevie Wonder glasses and high off her gourd.