While chatting with my friend, the Almighty and Powerful Spudz, the other day (I prefer to spell his name with a “Z” because he prefers to spell my name with a “Y”… we’re even now), I told him that I was coming up blank as to what to blog about. Should I blog about my volunteer experience? I have been pushing so hard to encourage more volunteers to help flood victims after all. Or, should I blog about something going on in the music scene? I’m about go to back in studio on the 24th of this month. Or, should I blog about my family? With seven children, two grandparents, four dogs, three cats, and a stressed out mama – let’s just say, there’s always something interesting going on (i.e. a tick being found – and announced loudly and obnoxiously – on Kidlet #7’s Tally-wacker aka Penis aka Balls.)
After only a moment of thought from Spudz, he said, “Blog about your eye!” I said, “Seriously?” He said, “Yes.” And, so it is said… so it shall be done.
Last Thursday, around bedtime, I rubbed my eye and somehow managed to get a piece of lint or something jammed up under my contact. After fussing with it and doing everything to try and work it out WITHOUT taking out my contact, I finally succumbed to the pain and took out the contact. By this time, my eye was completely red and inflamed. I looked like I had a raging case of pink-eye. Looking closely, the outline of the contact could clearly be seen in the redness.
I wake up the next morning still miserable, eyelid somewhat swollen, and intense redness. There was a moderate amount of irritation and I could not see anything coherently out of that eye. But, off to work I went.
By 3pm, the pain was searing. I finally carried my butt up to the doctor who walked in and said, “PINK EYE!” I looked at him as though he was insane. You see, country doctors don’t like to actually be doctors and find out the facts. They just come in after reading a half-illiterate nurse’s note, diagnose you without actually talking to you, write a prescription for something totally lame (and usually wrong), and send you on your merry way. Well, by golly, I was NOT going to walk out of there without a solution! Or, at least a referral to a good Ophthalmologist in Nashville.
Three hours later I was on my way home, walking into the house, amidst a flurry of “MOMMY! WHAT DID YOU DO?!?!?!” Naturally, it’s always about what I did – never about what someone, something, or some other force did to me. I’m the screw-up. It’s ok. I’m making peace with it.
The next day I had a show. I was singing at a benefit for flood victims and I had a patch on my eye. Pirate Debbie Lee at your service! Aside from the overwhelming desire to pillage and plunder (or more appropriately be pillaged and plundered… a story for another day), I wasn’t about to let anything stop me from performing that benefit. So, I did. Eye patch wouldn’t stay on because it was hot and I was sweating like a… well, like a very hot girl!
End result – after finally obtaining a referral to an ophthalmologist whom I saw on Tuesday, my eye will be OK! My sight is returning, the abrasion is healing, and all is well on this ship for now!
But, c’mon – y’all have to admit – I made a damned pretty pirate! ARGH!