The other day, I had full intentions of getting up, having a quick coffee, and getting to work, as in gather up all the clothing needed for our trip, pull out suitcases, make lists, buy medication. You know the drill. Because, guys! We leave for Florida next Wednesday, and as I keep reminding myself, I AM FULLY RESPONSIBLE FOR GETTING THIS ENTIRE FAMILY READY. Which is just not my style. I mean, that's why I got married and had kids, so that I'd have people who could do the work FOR me.
Instead, I lay on the couch all day long popping extra strength Tylenols, codeine and Gravol because I had woken up with yet another god-forsaken migraine that just would not budge. My head felt like a homely construction worker had come and jackhammered his way through my brain while smoking a rancid cigarello and screaming profanities in Italian. Yet another day down the proverbial drain. It might not have been half bad had the construction worker been whistle-worthy.
But I'm always one who looks at the bright side (SHUT UP!), so let me add that at least our upstairs bathroom is once again functioning, thanks to Mr. Handsome, and for that I am forever thankful! Can I hear three cheers, because there is possibly nothing less wonderful than having to shove your hand into the toilet tank and swish around in the cold, dank water searching for the little black stick thing to yank so that the damn toilet flushes.
And so much for the optimism, because that evening, the same day as my wicked day of legal pill popping (I think it was Tuesday), Dee and Mr. Handsome were having a gentle game of Ball Toss when Gryphon, our trusty, but monstrous standard poodle, jumped straight into the air like a kangaroo and swiftly knocked the ball out of its regular trajectory with the end of his nose, sending the ball. Straight.Into.My.Eye.
The room went silent.
Because, you see, I have a history of retinal detachments. It doesn't take much for one to occur, thanks to a genetic condition I have. So, when this ball ricocheted off my eyeball, my family knew this was not a good thing. Especially when we're days away from a big trip. Because, there's probably nothing worse than going to Disney World blind in one eye. Unless, of course, you were blind in both eyes, AND were paralyzed from the ears down, and had a very bad, undiagnosed skin condition that you, of course, wouldn't realize you had because you were blind.
Even Gryphon knew something was up because, once I had straightened up and could sort of see again, he was staring at me like I was a ghost. If a dog could look concerned, Gryphon did. And then, once I acknowledged his existence, he came closer to me and started licking me softly, as if he were saying, "I'm so sorry I'm such a goofus. Are you okay?" I swear this dog has feelings and intuition like no other. Once, I was upset about something, and he just came up to me and put his head on my lap, and looked at me. And this is a MALE I'm talking about. If only they could all be like that.
Cancellation of our trip flashed before my eyes, and I almost started to cry. Because it would really suck if I had to have eye surgery again, and the family would have to go to Florida without me. Nah, they wouldn't do that. We would cancel our trip, and then everyone would spend 10 days sitting in the living room, staring at me with nasty nasty looks on their faces. And they would return all the Christmas gifts they had lovingly bought for me.
I am happy to report that I think I'm okay. I've given it a couple of days, and my eyeball does not seem to have detached from its retinal component. I know what the symptoms are of retinal detachment (just ask me about the time Mr. Handsome PUNCHED me in the same eye), so I was on the look-out (pun totally intended), but all I've noticed so far are a couple more floaters hanging around causing me no end of grief. Do you know how irritating it is to try and read blogs
The other wonderful news I have to tell you is that I went back to my gastroenterologist for another check-up, and when he heard about my most recent prolonged diarrheic disaster series, he got all concerned, and after asking me a pile of questions, he said I need to have another colonoscopy.
After he peeled me off the floor and poured a gallon of cold water on my face, I told him the only way I was having THAT (The Procedure From Hell) done to me again was if he plied me with plenty of vodka, and the entire hospital's stash of Versed, and used a hammer to make sure I was out. Because my last experience was as pleasant as going to a spa, but not realizing that it was actually a Chinese Torture Chamber, where instead of painting your nails they pull them out, one by one, with red hot pliers. Yeah, THAT kind of pleasant.
So, all in all, a successful and extremely productive week, wouldn't you say?