Way, Way, Way off Topic: Adult content.
The trip to the eye doctor went well. DH will get the next cornea available and the doctor said it would be about three weeks. Doc said we can do the right eye first and a few weeks later, we will do the left eye. He said in all the years that he has been doing cornea transplants, he has never seen a cornea in as bad a shape as DH.
On our way to and from the doctor, DH and I spent about seven hours in the car and in that time our conversation never stopped. One thing about DH and me, we do not lack for talk. He is worried about me and I am worried about him. Our conversation:
DH: You’re losing weight again?
Me: I had wls, remember?
DH: I know, but I’m worried.
Me: don’t be. I’m good. BTW, you’re not sleeping.
DH: That’s not true.
Me: Look at that truck. Where do you think it’s going?
DH: What if they put a woman’s eyes in me?
Me: what?
DH: You know. What if they give me a woman’s eye.
Me: I don’t think men and women body parts…well, with the exception of the secondary sex organs, are any different.
DH: But, what if the eye has some female junk in it and it makes me feminine?
Me: WTF? Feminine junk? What is that? You think my femininity is junk?
DH: Hell no. I love your feminine junk. But, I don’t want to have it in my body.
Me: hmmm.
DH:What if they give me a serial killer’s eyes.
Me: stop. You’re being weird.
DH: Are you gonna make chocolate pie.
Me: when?
DH: Thanksgiving.
Me: yep. Did you see that deer?
DH: I’m blind, remember?
Me: Oh yeah. I forgot. So, I don’t think you can be too picky about whose corneas you get, right.
DH: About that weight? I think you should call your doctor.
Me: SHUT UP. I had wls to lose weight.
DH: How about TGIFs for lunch.
Me: Remember that waitress in Georgia. Woody woodpecker.
DH: She heard you.
Me: No she didn’t.
DH: You said, omg, that woman laughs like Woody woodpecker.
Me: do you think she spit in my tea?
DH: Hey, I know what. Let’s stop by the mall on our way home and see if we can find you an outfit for the party.
Me: Are you eating chips? Where’d you get chips? Throw them away. Damnit. You are going to gain that weight back.
DH: you’re obsessed.
Me: I think I need to stop and pee.
DH: me too.
Me: They should make his and her bathrooms for men and women who are needy like us.
DH: Would you…
Me: don’t say that. It’s gross.
DH: You laugh when the Charolett’s boy friend says it to her.
Me: that’s sex in the city. I don’t want you to say it.
DH: Lock the door.
We are too funny. He is legally blind; although, he can still see some outlines of things. So, when we go out, I lead him. I say, step up for the curb, etcs. Well, all of our friends are as eager for him to get new eyes as we are because they know that he is miserable and so am I But, we refer to him as my blind date. I know that is so wrong, and so politically incorrect, but when the situation arises where I can say, can I bring a blind date. or he can say, can I be your blind date, well, we do it.
At the restaraunt the other day, he had on those dark glasses and I was reading the menu to him and the waitress was waiting for our order and he asked about beers and she said they are on the back page, and I said, he's blind. She said, omg, I'm so sorry, and my husband started feeling the table for the menu and I said, stop it and she started talking really slow and loud. It was hilarious. He said, she is deaf, so talk loud to her, meaning me. The poor waitress was so uncomfortable. We left her a huge tip because of our making her feel so nervous. Like when she put his plate down, she said, the plate is in front of you and he started moving his hands near the plate, and she said, wait you are going to…and he didd, put his hands right in the middle of his gravy. I said, Kenny stop it. You can see well enough to not stick your hands in your gravy. He was just being mean.
