Then And Now...

On the left is what I looked like a week ago, on the right is what I look like as I write this. (Well, not exactly as I write this, more like fifteen minutes before writing.) As is apparent, vast improvement in appearance, what isn't so apparent is the vast improvement in seeing.

Last week I could discern light and dark, and some shapes, though the shapes appeared as blobs. This week I can actually see things in my peripheral vision. Which is quite maddening. Have you ever tried to look at something in your peripheral vision? As soon as you do, it's no longer in your peripheral vision. You have to look away to see. If that makes any sense.

Spent the morning on the phone and online with the short term disability folks at both work and at the insurance company which the company uses to cover us. I talked to a couple of really nice people. The empathy one gets after eye surgery is most interesting. Much more so than the last couple of surgeries I had. Geez, since I retired from the Air Force I've had more surgeons poking and cutting me than in the first 46 years of my existence.

Which reminds me of a funny story. Well, it's funny looking back at it.

Ever had an ingrown toenail? No fun, trust me. It got bad enough that the family doctor said that he'd need to operate on it, simple thing really, I won't bore you (gross you out) with the details. Suffice to say it was out patient surgery under local anesthesia.

I'm not a big fan of needles, truth be told, I don't know anyone who is. Oddly enough, when The Nuke was young, she took great pride in not being scared of needles. During one of the family permanent change of station moves, we went to the clinic, shot records in hand, to be inoculated against whatever pathogens awaited us at our new duty station.

Turns out all of the progeny needed three shots each. The Naviguesser went in, got his shots, and came out rubbing his arm in some pain. Then The Nuke went in. When she came out it was with a swagger. I swear, she was swaggering like some 15th Century samurai. She proclaimed to the waiting room at large, "That was nothing! Didn't hurt at all!"

The WSO decided that she was not going to accompany us to our next assignment and that she would simply stay right there until we returned. (Bear in mind, she was only seven at the time. The Nuke was nine.) The nurse pointed out that she couldn't do that. The WSO wanted to know why, the nurse said, "Well, if you stay right here," gesturing around at the clinic, "you'll have to get a shot every day."

At that point The Nuke lost her patience and proclaimed to the nurse, "Geez, my sister is a big baby. Go ahead, give me her shots!" This was accompanied by her rolling up her sleeve to get another shot.

Needless to say, reason prevailed, The WSO got her shots and off we went.

Anyhoo, back to my ingrown toenail (why do I keep wanting to type "in ground pool"?)...

I went to the hospital where the family sawbones awaited. (He was an awesome guy, had his own airplane, I still remember the number "44Q," which he always called "fo-ah fo-ah Kwe-beck" in his very old school New England accent.) He had me take my shoe off (left foot) and hop up on the table. He had this wee nurse, she couldn't have been much over four-foot nothing and 95 pounds dripping wet, who was there to assist.

Doc pulled his syringe out, I swear it was as long as a baseball bat and twice as thick, drew the anesthetic into it, did the tappy tappy thing to clear any air bubbles and then proceeded to impale my toe with that giant thing.

"Ow," I said. Which drew a "look" from the nurse. A look which said, "Man up, you big wuss." So I did. After a certain interval the doc tapped my toe and asked if it was numb. I said, "Yeah, feels numb."

At which point the doc commences to slicing open my toe outboard of that ingrown toenail (again with the in ground pool!). I'm watching all this, fool me, and when the blood started to run, I realized that I could feel the scalpel slicing through my flesh.

The top half of me came up off of the table like a freaking jack in the box, with me howling in pain, and screaming at the universe for the agony which was in it. At which point the nurse, all four foot nothing of her, 95 pounds dripping wet, grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me, yes, slammed me, back onto the table. She again gave me a "look."

Doc, for his part, just kind of chuckled and said, "Who-ee, guess it ain't numb enough!"

No sir, no, it was not anywhere near numb enough.

But he remedied that, he later told me that he gave me enough anesthetic to knock out a bull buffalo. He also fixed the toenail, which has looked strange to this day. I swear, the nurse must have cursed my weakness and the weird looking toenail remains to remind me not to be such a wuss at times.

So while the "demon eye" in that left photo was rather off-putting, I just shrugged it off. I mean yeah, I've had worse...