A few years ago, like 10, I had eye surgery. I’d worn glasses since I was about 12 and I was d o n e with it. My husband somehow came up with the money and we drove to Nashville to get a laser blasted into my eyes.
I still remember the day. I went in and told the technicians that I was going to be a screamer. They had better prepare the ropes, chains, straight-jackets or whatever they had, to hold me down. I told them I really, really want to do the surgery, but I was completely terrified. They didn’t believe me.
Apparently, the fact that I had given birth to six children made them think I was sporting “The Rock” as my middle name. Not so. Giving birth is not really much of a choice. You may ‘choose’ to get pregnant, but when it comes to giving birth….that stuff happens all on it’s own. There is no way any sane woman would ‘choose’ to have her body ripped in half while a screaming alien spawn crawls out. No, I did not choose that, it just happened. (I love my kids more than life)
“Choosing” to go to a place that will prop my eye lid open with dull toothpicks, fill my actual EyeBall with hardening fluid, and then shine the Light of God directly into my cerebral cortex…is way more scary that surviving child birth.
They laughed at me. Then they gave me Valium. I liked the Valium. I was fully aware of everything going on. My brain was screaming things like, “What the hell??!!! Stop it!! You are going to make me blind!!” But my body was saying, “like…whatever dude. It’s cool. Feathers are soft…” I survived just fine.
After the surgery, my eyes were super sensitive to the light. I became known as the coolest driver in town as I wore my sunglasses at night. (Thanks for the theme song Cory) It was worth the few pains to be able to read signs more than six inches away from my face. I could finally see.
I recently (today) took a drive up to the mountains for a much needed brain break (aka writers conference). I love being out in the mountains and roughing it in our shiny mansion of a cabin. “Complete with five bedrooms, Jacuzzi bathtubs, and a gourmet kitchen.” The mountain air brings out the creativity that has been stuffed into the back pocket of my brain for too long. It also frees my thoughts to become even more sarcastic, which helps me fit into the younger crowd (so I tell myself….).
My eye doctor has told me I’m ‘reaching that age’ where I need to wear reading glasses. I told him to stuff it and reminded him he is only five years younger, but I have more hair. That being said, I wonder if maybe he meant ‘driving glasses’. As I drove up the mountain in the waning twilight, I almost hit a cow in the road. Yes, a cow. I’m not really sure what a cow was doing on the side of the highway at the almost-top-of-a-mountain, but it was there. Maybe the grass is even greener on the other side of a mountain. Maybe it fell out of the back of a Prius. Maybe it got lost on the way home from a hot date with a Bull from the other side of the tracks. Whatever the reason, there was a big red cow in the road. I didn’t hit it, thankfully. I also didn’t hit the two deer that decided it would be cool to eat the grass growing out of the cracks in the asphalt IN the street.
As I careened around the treacherous curves in the road, I decided there was only one way to make it to the cabin alive. I had to ignore all those signs that said ‘stay to right unless to pass.’ I mean, who makes those signs? Is it the cows or deer? Are they trying to have a meeting? I felt like I was stepping into the follow up book to Animal Farm. The animals are out to get us and they are starting with the roads.
I’ll tell you one thing, it kept me awake. I can fall asleep doing anything, especially driving. But seeing a 6-1/2 foot tall deer standing in the road, staring me down…my eyes stayed open.
Thanks deer, Cause I said so.
Photo credit: npr.tumblr.com