So today my mother (otherwise known as Gma) had to have an eye operation to open her tear duct. She was very brave but it was a VERY long day. First she gets in the car with the scent of BenGay following her everywhere. She had just put it on, then remembered she couldn’t have it on, washed it off, but it lingers. We get to the surgical facility and in order for her not to mess up her hair, she ties a scarf around her head, the sight of which is reminiscent of Patty Hearst being kidnapped by the Symbionese Liberation Army. She then discusses with anyone who will listen how she “fell” this morning. She didn’t fall, she leaned against the bed, but then everyone was in an uproar (Did you lose consciousness? Were you dizzy? Are you a nut?) Finally we convinced everyone she was fine and off she went.
Meanwhile, Im in the waiting room with an entire Russian family. Now I understand that if you have a relative that is having a procedure in a surgical facility (ie: NOT brain surgery in hospital) someone should be there. However, there was 3 grown daughters, a husband and 2 kids under 4, there for 3 hours. Call me crazy but when the kids were whining (through no fault of their own) why couldn’t someone take them home? Clearly the procedure wasn’t life threatening and they all had phones. Call each other for god’s sake. I was cranky.
We then got her home, tucked into her nightgown, with a tuna sandwich and a cup of tea. Now she just has to get through the myriad of drops and ointments for the next week. But the surgery was a success according to the doctor and that’s one less thing to hear about. Tomorrow is my Bone Scan, so another day, another doctor.