This morning, I found out that I had come down with some sort of a genetic disease. It was a terrible discovery. At some point, when I thought it was still the middle of the night, I heard this strange bocking noise. It would not stop. The last thing I recall seeing was myself getting up at 2 a.m. to shut off the cool new fan we put in our bedroom. It's one of those tall skinny ones that stands in the corner. Kind of like I wish I was, but I have to settle with chubby and middle of the room type events. I oscillate though. I'm cool. I don't however, have a 1 hour timer that shuts me up. The fan does. Evidently I need to read the instructions again though.
So this bocking noise kept on going. It was dark. Strange. I was hearing things.
Then a beeping noise accompanied the bocking noise. What was going on? I think I was just beginning to lose my hearing. Then there was an earthquake. And the beeping noise stopped. I peeled one eye partially open to a splash of sunlight and the blurry vision of Mr Nice Guy on my side of the bed re-setting the alarm. Heh? What was HE doing up and in such a hurry? Was there ever really an earthquake? I think it was just him tripping over the laundry basket I left at the end of the bed. On his side. Where he hates it.
Something was definitely wrong. He never gets up before me. And he NEVER turns off the alarm for me. That's my job. It's the reason he sleeps on the opposite side of the bed - from wherever an alarm clock is located. Something was definitely wrong. I began to wonder how long I had been seriously ill. Was I just waking up from a coma? My other eye still didn't want to open.
I made some sort of loud breath noise so he'd know that I was coming to. He didn't really seem interested in catching me up on what I'd missed out on the past few months, and he headed to the bathroom. I thought it was so sweet that he let me sleep on the same side of the bed that I was used to, even when I was incapacitated. Maybe it was easier for him to give me a sponge bath this way. It was definitely easier to roll me to prevent bed sores from this side.
I made another breath noise. He turned on the shower. I hadn't really thought about it before, but my breath was most likely several weeks old (smelled that way to me) and he was probably trying to keep from getting sick. Bless his heart, he was so emotionally distraught that he didn't want to embarass me. He knew I was waking up! He wanted to leave me some time to myself. Good thing, I had to collect my thoughts and check for a catheter.
Now what was with this silly eye problem? My disease had taken away the ability to see properly! Not that I could see very well to begin with, but this was much different. Somehow, I managed to sling my atrophied legs over the edge of the bed, and lift myself up. No easy feat for a round oscillating fan that had genetic issues. I reached up to the top of my dresser and groped around for my glasses. This would help me see the true extent of the damage that had been done. No such luck. They weren't there. Someone had probably placed them in a personal belongings bag when they sent me home from the hospital in the coma.
My second eye was starting to peel open. It was a strange feeling, kind of like what an orange must feel like when you peel its skin off. Hoping I wouldn't collapse, I pulled myself to my feet and I took my first steps! The therapists would be so proud of me. I was way ahead of the game. Using furniture as crutches, I made my way into the bathroom where my husband was showering and singing some forlorn song of loneliness. I felt my way into the medicine cabinet above the sink and grabbed the bottle of solution for my contact lenses. I was going to give my eyes a little bath! They had been closed for a very long time, and it felt as if someone had munched up saltine crackers and sprinkled one in each eye. I was sure this would help clear up some of the mess, or at least it would make me look like I was crying when I woke up so Mr Nice Guy would take pity on me. Then he'd maybe make me breakfast. I was really hungry because someone had prematurely removed my feeding tube.
I doused my right eye with solution, and it sort of made things worse. Then, I tried for the left eye. I managed to poke myself, but nothing came out of the bottle. So I went and got right up close to the mirror, hoping desperately, that someone had kept up with plucking my stray eyebrows. You know, the ones that stray to your chin? I can only go a couple of days, before it becomes hideously noticeable. Well evidently some nice soul had helped me out because I didn't see any three inch hairs hanging down. Maybe my Mother stopped in from time to time. She's got the same issue and probably felt sympathetic about my dignity. Maybe I got my sudden genetic disease from her too?
Peering into the mirror, I saw what appeared to be me. I got really close and examined my eyes. They were open alright, and not looking too bad. Not sure who got the wild idea to put makeup on me and leave it there, but someone had probably been called in to try out post-mortem makup to see what looked the most natural for when I went on ahead. I think dead people with too much makeup on look rediculous don't you?
Something was definitely in my right eye though. It was floating there. I stumbled around, managing to wash my hands, so as to avoid irritating the disease any further. Then, I pulled open my eye, and plucked out the floating object. I think I accidentally pulled off my cornea! No wait, it was a familiar round shape with a faint bluish tint. Strange, it looked like a contact lens. I opened the medicine cabinet again, and found an empty contact lens container. Those idiots! Who would leave me in a coma with my contact lenses in?? Don't you know that it can cause eye problems to leave them in overnight, let alone for WEEKS?
Suddenly, the images of my Mother's advance directive came flooding back. "Take no measures to hasten death" Had I not signed off on that for myself??? Who was trying to hasten my death by leaving contact lenses in my eyes? I threw the lens in the trash. The eery song coming from the shower made me suspicious. The rush to shut off the alarm so I wouldn't awaken. The distance he had gone to be absent when I made breath noises. It was like someone guilty who can't look you in the eye! Problem was, my eye wasn't seeing clearly anyway, matter of fact neither was the other one. I pulled the lens from the other eye, threw it in the trash with its twin and mulled over how to hide the fact that I was in on the secret plot. I took a tissue from the Kleenex box, crumpled it up and placed it over the top of the lenses in the garbage. I didn't want anyone to know... not yet. I had to sneak out later and go through paperwork to see how much insurance they bought for me and who the beneficiaries were.
I tiptoed back into my room, crawled under the covers and closed my eyes. "They'll never know that I know" I thought, as I fell back asleep. The bocking started up again.
It's ok chickens, I know. I know all about it.