Yay! Drama! My Favorite Thing! But Thank God, It Wasn't Bill This Time...

Today, we had a big drama. As you know, I am the drama queen of the family, and I love dramatic scary moments in real life. But this one happened to ME, and it wasn't quite as much fun going THRU the drama, as it was coming out safely at the end of it.

But first Bill!

He had his blood test and is doing so well, he did not even need the chemo drip they had him scheduled for! He is appearing indestructible to the "red devil."

And yes, his hair continues to gain its independence, but there's still some on his head!

He feels great, is only a little tired, and is eating in restaurants! It's just unbelievable! (((((((((((((prayer?)))))))))))))))).

Here ends today's report on Bill, the actual cancer/chemo patient and subject of this entire blog.

However.

The rest of the blog is about me, attempting to take over the blog, upstage Bill, and get ALL YOUR ATTENTION FOR MYSELF! So if that seems tasteless, crude, discourteous, graceless, inconsiderate, self-serving, intrusive and vulgar, then skip the next part.

Cause it's all about MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

For a little while today, my inner panic button got pushed, and during that time, I was pretty darned sure that by the end of the day, I would be blind, de-eyed, glass-eyed, and possibly diagnosed as being filled with multiple cancers that had metastasized to my eye, and/or having brain-eating parasites that had started by digesting the back of my right eye.

An emergency trip to the World's Coolest Rock Star of an Ophthalmologist in Boone, saved me from these wretched illusions.

Since I already wrote the report of My Eye Apocalypse on Facebook, I'll just copy/paste that in here, for anyone who is forgiving enough to allow me to UPSTAGE my poor husband on his own blog, by my self-centered, shameless hunger for sympathy and attention. Here's the report as posted on Facebook.

Drama Queen Eye Hysteria Zombie Apocalypse Report: 

We were going to go do a chemo thing for Bill when I called the ophthalmologist (try spelling THAT word!), and as I described some new eye symptoms in one eye, the woman stopped me and said, STOP TALKING!! EMERGENCY!!! COME IN! COULD MEAN EMERGENCY SURGERY! 

Well to a drama queen, such as myself, she might as well have screamed ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE! MAYANS WERE RIGHT! SURROUND YOUR HOUSE WITH TREADMILLS IF YOU WANT TO SURVIVE THE ZOMBIES!

My whole body went into shock, panic, weeks to live, glass eyes, blindness, respect for Helen Keller, theological questions like "Is God mad at me?". 

Even a valium wouldn't touch it. 

So we did the chemo trip, and THANK GOD Bill didnt need a drip. 

So we rushed to eye clinic, and this AWESOME GODLIKE 7 FOOT TALL REINCARNATED APOLLO of an eye dr came in and did this intense exam with dilated pupils (still dilated, I feel CRAZY with the pupils dilated!!!!!). 

Result: words I can't spell. Macular pucker something, with a retinal membrane something, and it probably won't ever need surgery, but if it does, I'd have to lie FACE DOWN on a bed for 14 days WITH A GAS BUBBLE IMPLANTED IN MY EYE TO RE-ATTACH THE RETINA! omg! 

During the exam, I started laughing about something, and then the Dr started laughing at what I was saying, then the nurse started laughing, then we were all laughing, and then the Dr said to Bill, who was there, "Does she talk this much all the time? My sympathies, man!" and gave Bill a fist bump!

Bill said (total straight face), "Two weeks upside-down without talking? Are you SURE she doesn't qualify for that?" 

We kept laughing so much that the Dr said, 'You are my favorite patient of the day," and when I was paying my bill, he came over and put his arm around me and said to the nurse, "She is my hero. Funniest patient ever." 

I asked the nurse, "Was there a mood elevator in those eye drops?" She said, "No, and I've never seen so much laughing in an eye exam in my life." 

I said, "Well, I thought I'd walk out of here with a glass eye. I guess I'm just so relieved." 

So I have 20/25 vision and NO eye disease except this THING that won't progress, most likely. 

Gawd. I went from almost throwing up with terror and weeping (Bill had to drive during that part), to laughing and wanting to kiss everyone I saw (Bill had to drive home during my euphoric episode, which euphoria was fully expressed all the way home, even though my eyes were closed, due to the bright sunlight and my dilated pupils). 

I don't know why he is now taking a huge nap. 

Poor Bill. He just said, "You're a piece of work, Beth, a piece of work."

I wear that cowboy out, sometimes. I really think I do.

Love to all.