June 25, 2016

I gotta go buy some beer

It looks to be a gorgeous summer day here at the old homestead. Skies are blue, trees are green. Sentence fragments are in the air. I'm awake and breathing. There is indeed plenty to be thankful for. Proper syntax aside.

I know you are sick of my political rants. I'm sick of them too. I have more disgust bubbling inside but I will refrain from venting on this delightful Saturday, about politics anyway.

I'm surprisingly upbeat about the prospect of some dude slicing open my eyeball. I'm a little weirded out about getting some other person's body parts stitched in. I'm really depressed that my kids have a 50% chance of developing the same issues. That sucks.

So Joe, you ask, how bad is your vision? OK, you didn't ask. But it is my blog and I can ramble on at my heart's content. I haven't spent a lot of time and words whining about diabetes or pains in my foot or other stuff. Well, I do complain a lot, but let's leave that aside. But you digress. Anyway , I have gone from "can't see shit" to can't see at all. We are talking big E on the eye chart capabilities. With my glasses on. Forget reading line four, I can't even see that there is a line four. I'll be driving through your state next week BTW. Feel better?

If I can't see I can't drive. If I can't drive I can't work. Yeah, that's why I am scheduled for eyeball replacement in weeks, not months. Yes, I know it ain't the eyeball. Just give me my drama queen moment already. The doctor wanted to space the surgeries a month apart. I suggested we do both at once. We compromised on a two week interlude.

I won't be able to pick up or hold my granddaughter for at least six weeks. I'll be restricted from bending over too. I'll have to have my wife tie my shoes. That's just a bit humiliating, but just a little less than having her read a menu to me. That is where we are now. Which is worse: I can't tie my shoes or I can't read? Both make me feel like a damn three year old. At least I'm not wetting and crapping my pants.


That is two posts in a row crying about poor me. I doubt there will be many more. That is not how we like to roll around here. At least I hope not.

What time does my surprise pity party start anyway? Will there be a piƱata?

Enjoy your weekend. I'm going to enjoy mine.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Good luck on the whole thing, read up a bit on it, seems like a real pain in the ass but could be a lot worse. You could be married to Hillary.


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