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Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Waiting Room Blues

Gosh, it is so annoying to hear the jibber jabber of the talking heads on the news channel playing incessantly on the flatscreen in the eye surgery center waiting room. The noise goes on, piercing through the 3/4" foam of the earplugs stuffed deep into my ears. The other family members of surgery patients are sitting numbly, staring at the chattering newsimps and the crawl of blurbage across the bottom of the ADD-tempo  pictures. And one of the fluorescent spotlights in the center of the seating area is flashing like a strobe, so if the TV weren't enough to send you screaming into the century-plus temperatures outside, the flickering bulb is. But we're all enduring, as we wonder how our loved ones  are currently doing under the knife.

I didn't know that they put in a prescription lens during cataract surgery--I'd always assumed it was just a clear one. But I suppose that when you've developed cataracts, your eyes have been pretty steady (in terms of corrective lenses) for a while. So Grandmommy will need new glasses after this is all over. My aunt and then my mother plan to come down in succession to relieve me--Grandmommy assures me that she'll be fine on her own, but I think we're all more concerned about her feeling too good than the reverse--feeling go great post-op that she pulls an Arnold Schwarzenegger and attempts far too much, affecting the positive outcome of the procedure and delaying her healing time.

I think I will head for DC tomorrow, given no complications here.

I spent last Friday night in Savannah with my friend Audrey--we had a good dinner downtown and then sat up until almost midnight discussing memories and plans. She's going to start an accounting class in the fall, preparatory for gradually assuming control her family's large farming business. She's not only learning number crunching, she's studying soil and fertilizer and seed and how heavy equipment has affected farmland and its ability to percolate. It's fascinating stuff, and a far cry from the physical education major she pursued as an undergraduate almost two decades ago. I told her if she ever needed an admin assistant to call me.

I need a nap. I slept well last night, I just needed ten to twelve hours instead of eight.


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