Sh*t Happens

Whoever came up with the  “Sh*t Happens”  logo has to know us.

It’s been awhile since I have posted. Sh*t Happened. Again.

Last week, we were out-of-town attending a funeral.  While visiting with family over the weekend, hubby’s retina started to detach itself from his left-eye. He suspected this may be happening, because his other retina detached eight-years ago, and you tend to remember crap like that.

He had an emergency exam by a local Ophthalmologist, who told us that  we needed to get hubby home and into surgery, ASAP.

A dilemma because I can’t drive his big-assed truck.  Well… I suppose I could drive it, but it would be like “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride”. I have very little depth perception and a deep-seated fear of driving in places I don’t know.  My sense of direction is so bad that even with my GPS unit, “Tom”,  I still manage to get myself  lost.

Hubby’s sister, my hero, saved our butts by driving us home (a nine-hour drive). She drove all day Sunday, and on Monday she drove us to Stockton and then to Sacramento where the retinal surgery center was.

It was a tricky surgery – his detached retina had 5 rips in it. His surgeon explained to us hubby’s eye was filled with oil, to help keep the retina in place while it healed. In 3-4 months they will remove the oil during his second surgery.

Say WHAT??? Monday’s surgery will cause a cataract to grow in his eye.  How lovely.  Something to look forward to this summer.

Once home, we tucked hubby into bed. The retinal re-attachment surgery is the first step to healing. Now hubby has to lay face down 3-5 days to keep the oil  floating against the retina to make it heal in place. His back already is killing him from being in that position.

So – hubby’s hurting, sleep deprived, and bored out of his mind. Can’t read or watch TV. No morning walks. He is also suffering withdrawal from his Sudoku puzzle addiction. This is not a happy time for him. Or his wife.

Oh man, is he grumpy!

To compound his grumpiness, I keep nagging reminding him to keep his head bent down, and annoying him by trying to anticipate his every need. I’m probably on his last nerve, and it’s only post-op day 3.

Yet – he wants to go to the Post Office with me tomorrow. ‘Just to get out of the house’, he says. I know it’s really because he thinks I’ll get lost.  I may not have driven in this town or anywhere since last July when we moved in.

However, I think I can find my way down the mountain better than a blind guy.   Then again, sh*t happens.