Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Squinty McGuinty


When I'm sitting here blogging? This is how I look.

"Aren't I attractive?" I ask Dave.

"No," sez Dave.

My one eye is SO BAD that I catch myself closing it tight, slamming it shut, anything to look at this damnably blurry computer screen. (You should see how big I've got it blown up. And I can only stand looking at it for a few minutes at a time.) Thirteen more days until my cataract surgery. 13 DAYS! I can hardly WAIT for that doctor to poke a hole in my eyeball with a scalpel, mash the lens around before he yanks it out, and stick the new bendable umbrella-ish lens through the hole. Then he'll stitch it up with a needle and thread. Like stuffing a Christmas goose. The idea of having stitches in my eyes is a little daunting but I am definitely looking forward to seeing again.

It's not that I can't see. I just can't see details. It's like looking through a window that's clouded up. Like, when you've been out at Make-out Hill necking in the back of your boyfriend's Buick and there's a knock on the window and you're not sure if it's a cop or a serial killer because you've steamed up the glass. Here, I found this image on the web that shows you what I mean:


Anyway, I'm getting sick and tired of squinting at everything. I was at the hairdresser's today, getting my eyebrows plucked because I sure as hell can't see them (I now wear make-up like 90-year-old ladies wear make-up, with blue shadow over half my face and lipstick smeared up my nose. I know. Disgusting). The hairdressing ladies were teasing me that after the surgery I'll know what Dave REALLY looks like. (God, I hope he's cute. Word to the wise: never marry someone BEFORE cataract surgery.)

I found out tonight, on Facebook, because everything I know about my family I learned on Facebook (pretty soon we won't need family reunions, we'll just set up a FB event and nuke our own hot dogs), that my cousin Karen just found out SHE has cataracts. And she's younger than me! Poor thing, she just had surgery for glaucoma (the eye disease I can never pronounce) and she went in for a post-op check-up and the doc says, "Your glaucoma is gone but keep an eye on those cataracts you got going." Talk about not winning for losing! Hey Karen - I'll loan ya my white cane when I'm done with it! And then we'll go and beat up on our mothers for handing us down the blind gene!

Speaking of mothers, I had lunch with mine today. She paid, which was AWESOME. We went to the hairdresser's. Mom got herself a fancy new do and she looks like a million bucks. Seeing as how I'm usually at work when my Mom is gallivanting, this was a real treat. We had coffee and gossiped and chatted and ate and gossiped and, you know, it was just fabulous! Thanks Mom!

On a different note, I'm pretty stoked about how Letters from a Friend is going. Hope you're liking it, too. I love how every letter is different. I love all your comments. Some of them make me laugh. Some cry. All of 'em make me squint. Oh, didn't you love Jamie Woodman's handcrafted letter? She is SO talented. Me and her and Dave and Donna Brohm had a helluva good time having coffee at her house on Monday. Nothing better than seeing old friends. I got there and announced, truthfully, "You guys haven't changed a bit! You look amazing!" And they were, like, "Says the blind girl." Yeah. Well. I bet they looked fetching. They always did. Likely always will.

I've got lots more letters coming up. Tomorrow I'll be posting a letter from Delores of The Feathered Nest fame. She is one of my most faithful blog readers – I've gotta give her credit for that. Even when I post the worst shite, she is there to cheer me on. Delores is also one of the most prolific bloggers I've come across – she posts like a zillion times every day. OK, so maybe not a zillion, but ALMOST. (Gotta stop writing about her now so I have lots to discuss tomorrow.)

I've got letters from some of my very favourite blogger friends. You won't want to miss them, I swear.

One more thing: we went cross-country skiing on Sunday. There's a spot around the corner from us where you can ski-for-free. It was gorgeous and we had an awesome time. I am NOT a great skier anymore, since I got old and fat and all, but I used to be, when dinosaurs roamed the earth. I was feeling brave until I went down the first hill, yelling, "SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!" all the way.

Next hill, I took off the damned skis and walked.

I may be blind but I'm not stupid.

Remind me to buy Sam some snow pants.







21 comments:

  1. Hey HawkEye...13 days and you'll be able to see us again. hurray!!!! You went skiing half blind? What?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yep, I'm totally in training for the Para-lympics.

      Delete
  2. Good luck with your surgery. A friend of mine was in your boat, finally had the surgery and jokes that when she looks back she can see. And I hear ya about those skis...never could figure out what a Louisiana gal like me was doing on skis in New Hampshire! Not one of my brighter moves.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Was it fun, though? Or were you scared silly? I find the older the get the scareder!) I get. Also, the sillier, but that's beside the point.
      I'm hoping I get as good as eyeballs as your friend, Kittie! Thanks!

      Delete
  3. You're a hot mama, Cathy...don't sweat it. Good luck with your surgery, my mom needs surgery too but no insurance :-( She just drives to her job with one eye closed...oy.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oy is right!!! Tell your mom to move to Canada... she can ski with one eye closed and she can get insurance. Plus, you can come visit! BONUS!

      Delete
  4. I love x-c skiing, until the hills! So we could ski together and yell SHIT-SHIT-SHIT in unison.

    Hey, I'm going down to take care of my mom in 21 days for her cataract surgery. I keep hoping my eye doc tells me I have them so I can get new lenses (I am sooooooo near-sighted, -9.0 and -10.0; truly sucks).

    Enjoying those letter, Squinty. Peace...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I would LOVE to go skiing with you! Your near-sightedness and my cataracts and there won't be a tree we don't get up close and personal with!

      I hear you on the nearsightedness – I've worn distance glasses since Grade 9 and it will be suh-weet to get rid of them. I'll still need reading glasses but at least they won't be bi-focals. I hope your mom's surgery goes well! I know I'm hoping for some really psychedelic drugs for the operation - I hope she gets some too!

      Delete
  5. Wow. I miss xc skiing. Been FOREVER. And we definitely have enough snow this year . . .

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well, strap on the boards, Jolene! if I can walk down the hills, so can you!

      Delete
  6. Hope the surgery (& more importantly - the recovery!) goes well, Cathy. I nursed my 80-year old Aunt through 2 cataract ops. and by all accounts my daughter (at 27!!!!!) is already developing one after her intervention to repair her detached retina!

    I'm looking forward to you describing your 'sparkly sharp' world once you have your 'new' eyes! :-)

    ReplyDelete
  7. That's funny (not haha, just coincidental) that your daughter is developing cataracts following her retinal surgery because that's sort of what is happening to my cousin. I'm wondering if the surgery causes or speeds up the development of cataracts.

    And thanks for the sparkly wishes!

    ReplyDelete
  8. Wow that must be really exciting. I'll be back to see how the preparations for op goes and how the op went. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  9. Everything looks like truffula trees! Good luck with all the preparation for the surgery.

    That's a nice pic on the ski trail. So wintery.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Don't worry, Squinty. Dave is very handsome. :) You're looking skinny in that squinty picture too!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. HAR! And you say I'M great at public relations! (checking to see if there's really smoke billowing out from my butt or if it just feels that way....)

      Delete
  11. Hi,

    I came to visit via Delores. I have my fingers and toes crossed that your cataract operation is a success. My mother had hers done and said that she hadn't seen that well in years. Good luck.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Why thanks, E.C.! So glad you dropped by. You have such a lively blog!

      Delete
  12. FORGET the squinty eye ... YOU'RE an APPLE gal????

    ReplyDelete

How's it going, eh? It's SO good to hear from you. Tell me every darn thing...