I'll Be Seeing You

Tomorrow I am having lasik surgery. I am both excited and terrified. Don't tell me you wouldn't be if someone were to shoot a laser beam in your eye.

I have worn glasses since 7th grade and contacts since 10th. Beloved s'daughter Shelby has had glasses since they could tape them on her little baby face. My father has had them since the cavemen learned to grind up Coke bottles. The person who was preforming my pre-op exam today asked me, "Why do you want to have lasik surgery?" I just looked at her. "Well . . . I am ready to be done with glasses."

I wonder what the right answer was.

After trying to come up with the correct answer for why I wanted to have the procedure done. I had to answer three times that -- yes -- I fully understood that some time in the next 5 to 10 years I would need to have reading glasses any way. Tomorrow I will have to write it out on a piece of paper, "Yes, I understand that I may still require glasses at some point . . ."

So, anyway, if you don't hear from me tomorrow, it's because after the operation I am supposed to lay in a dark room for the rest of the day with "eyes closed if possible." That cracks me up. I'm all freaked out. What if I can't close my eyes afterwards? (No, I know what they mean.)

I thought I might listen to a book on CD during my darkened rest tomorrow, but as I was going into the library, two retired gentlemen I know were coming out with their arms loaded up with all the good books on CD. They are driving to their winter home in Miami and apparently need something to listen to on the trip.

For pete's sake, why can't they spend their time arguing or something like every other cross country driving team. Or why couldn't one person read out of an actual book while the other one drives. Some of us are trying to rest in the dark with our eyes closed . . . if possible.