Lookie, Lookie, Look At My Thorax

Ah, we're home again. It's been a wild time for the Mobley 3 over the last few weeks - terribly fun, but as always, it's good to be back. Eventually I hope to write out the majority of our adventures, but considering I forget things almost as they occur, there will probably be some holes.

What the heck am I doing sitting at this computer? Oh! Blogging ...

I'll begin with (ominous music playing in my head) my eye surgery. After years of eager anticipation, I had Lasik on June 19th. They offered me very powerful medications to take before the procedure to calm my nerves, but nooooo. I wasn't scared. What was there to be nervous about? What's the big deal about having your eyes lasered? I was much more focused on what I was going to do with my glasses once the ordeal was over. I think I finally settled on stomping on them wearing my garden shoes, then grinding them into a fine powder in my blender, then making them into a thick paste with the addition of my spittle, then using them to seal a strongly worded letter to Justin Timberlake.

The pre-op stuff was a breeze. Lots of looking into machines and telling doctors whether 'A' or 'B' was clearer. My favorite moment occurred when I was sitting alone in a dark room waiting to be called into the operating room. One of the guys assisting with the procedure (nurse?) poked his head in and asked in a serious tone, "Christina, what did you have for breakfast?"

"Tea and bread," I answered.

"Tea. What kind of tea?"

"Um, English Breakfast?" I replied weakly, wearing very worried eyebrows.

"Hm. English Breakfast," he said under his breath, then proceeded to close the door and talk in foreboding tones to his colleagues right outside of it.

Moments later another assistant comes in and tells me they're ready for me. "Was I not supposed to drink tea?" I asked her.

"No, tea's fine. You can drink whatever you want. Sometimes they just like to ask what you had for breakfast."

Really? Just for kicks they go around asking patients what they ate? Is that to give them ideas for the following morning or is there some sort of contest amongst the nurses to see who's patient had the most exciting morning meal?

"Hey Gary, mine had Lucky Charms."

"Oh yeah, well mine had tea. English Breakfast."

"Aw, man!"

The procedure itself was freaky in the extreme. It didn't really help that I was informed right before I went in that several patients had been late that morning and thus they were "working in" Lasik in between other appointments. Nice. People shuffled around me in a cold, dark room. After a couple numbing drops, a wretched metal ring was shoved into my right eye to hold it still. Then they CUT OPEN MY EYEBALL. They kept telling me to look straight ahead at the pretty red light, but my eye sort of went bonkers. I tried with all my might to make it hold still but I could still feel it jerking ... trying to blink, I suppose. Or jump out of my face and head for the door. I squeezed the giant stuffed whale they had me hold, prayed, and tried to find a happy place. The lasering itself was nothing. Just a bunch of little clicks and a flashing light. Then they put the sliced bit of eye back in place and proceeded to rub a sponge over it for approximately 7 days.

Now time for the other eye! It was at this point I was cursing myself for not leaving well-enough along. My glasses weren't really that bad. So what if they fell off every time I looked down or flew across the room when I turned my head suddenly? And WHAT IN THE WORLD was I thinking not to take the very powerful medication?!

It was a very "abducted by aliens" sort of experience, but in reality, it lasted only around 20 minutes, and by the next day I was seeing 20/20. Who hoo!

The things we do to look good.

Me a couple days after surgery wearing my super-sexy nighttime goggles.