THE SONIC BOOMER
I’m a professional writer, so I won’t harp on the fact that I am typing this using only one eye. My good eye is closed because everything is blurry, and my bad eye is resisting the work load previously carried by the good eye.
Instead, I will tell you that I had life-changing cataract surgery that promises to help me see better than ever before! But when my doctor first jabbed me, I said “Ow.” To which he replied, “That’s not supposed to hurt.” How was I supposed to respond to that? Fortunately, the anesthesiologist knew how to respond, injecting me with enough sleepy juice to put me to sleep for days.
I’m awake now, but my shirt is soaked with eye drops meant, obviously, for my eye, but I can’t see well enough to get them in there. I keep getting startled by people who suddenly show up beside me but, as it turns out, they’re shrubs. Happily, when I do snap out of this, my prescription will have changed, and I’ll get to buy all new glasses. So, whoopee!
My husband, Mark, also had an exciting day last week, as his heart had decided not to beat rhythmically anymore but in any old way it wanted. His doctor decided to shock it into submission using those electric paddles you see around town. (Can just anyone do this? Would you?) But, being a doctor who does this all the time, he neglected to tell Mark some of the details. So, Mark spent the previous week re-writing his will and living in terror, describing the upcoming outpatient visit to me thusly, “They stop my heart and then shock it and, hopefully, it starts up again.”
I was aghast. “Really? Are you sure? I don’t think they do that kind of thing on an outpatient basis.” But I am only his lowly wife, so his terror continued until they shocked his heart and released him an hour later. It was not the time for me to say, “I told you so,” although I may have muttered it under my breath while he was in recovery.
So that took care of Monday and Tuesday. On Wednesday night, “historic rains” caused the creek behind my antiques mall to overflow its banks right through the store out into the front parking lot. There was a three-inch-deep puddle in front of the checkout counter, and the other 6,500 square feet of carpeting squished when you walked on it. You could almost hear the mold growing. A clean-up crew was employed. (“But if you want an estimate, you’ll have to wait until next week. The estimators are booked. Or we can get started right away. Just sign here.”) Three days later, the crew’s 35 fans and dehumidifiers are still running. For fun, I go outside and watch my electric meter spin around. But, most importantly, I’m a part of history.
I could go on, but it’s time to squirt more eye drops onto my shirt.
