Act I Scene X

We left our (not so very) brave and beautiful leading lady in the clutches of the ruthless cold villain known as The Smasher, The Crusher, Ice-Ice Booby, Bruiser and Bob. More commonly referred to as "you want me to put my what where so you can do what?".

Ah, but that time has since passed, and these days our loverly heroine lavishes in the luxury of complete peace and quiet mixed with the noticeable absence of drama *cue needle dragging across a record** music, conversation and action come to an abrupt and theatrical stop*

That's what life has been lately - a needle dragging across the record of my life cuing yet another scene of the never ending drama in the One Act Play called Life. Oh of course I know that we aren't supposed to live our lives in a consummate cake walk. That would be boring. What with all the sunshine and good health, geez who could stand it? Well, I for one could stand it just a little bit more of late!

The stage darkens the curtains close and re-open on what we soon realize is a flashback. (as soon as we tell you that is) Flashback: The date, October 10th. Or 9th, no the 8th. Or something. Whatever, it's a Wednesday in October okay? Our beautimous leading lady is heading to the Dr. for her 6 month post surgery follow-up visit, only it's one month late thank you very much Ike.

She is in pain and has been for several days now. Clutching her stomach she patiently awaits her turn however, the pain has become increasingly worse over the past few days and is, at this point, almost unbearable. When she finally sees her Dr. he notices her tortured expression. He asks her a few questions, she answers, he prods her belly and then utters these exact words "blah, blah, hospital" and "something, something, surgery" and "right now" and "something, something, blah, blah, blah".

No! What? No. Wait, I have an exercise class today...I have a family...I need to go back to work...(all very lame excuses - except for the family - but like that made any sense.) Uh, hey Doc...don't you just want me to take some Gas-X and quit being such a baby? You know, this too shall pass and all that? Nope. Surgery. Surgery? Surgery. Gah! So, she obediently heads to the hospital, right after texting her husband and friends of course, and checks herself in.

Surgery happened the next morning. It seems WLS patients can easily get these little things called hernias. Which sound pretty harmless (to me) but can be extremely painful and can become life-threatening if not taken care of.

Our brave (and as some have noted, crazy) actress returned to the job she loves (eh, hem) apparently more than a few extra days off, the following Monday. *the word actress is used here rather than leading lady to denote the fact that this was indeed all an act. Who the heck returns to work that quick after surgery unless they are pretending to be insane? A leading lady would have stayed home and milked that puppy for all its worth*

Then there was the whole Crusher incident with several call backs for more pictures of you know what. Toss in a little scare due to a "questionable area" that looked like someone placed a cotton ball on my x-ray but actually turned out to be nothing. Well, not 'nothing' but nothing of importance. Whew. Rest. Breathe. Yay!

Nope.

Our beloved, brave, beautimous, loverly, insane heroine then decides it's time for an eye exam. Why not? I mean it is the end o' the year. Time to take care of all the body parts.

Eye Dr. does the usual look at this and squint at that. Performs the ever arduous and grueling task where she makes you decide ONE or TWO? TWO or THREE? Dude. DUDE! So much stress...I just know I am going to somehow fail her in my answer. Uh...four? To which she calmly replies, ONE or TWO? TWO or THREE?

After I fail that obstacle course miserably, she informs me there is something wonky with one of my tests. Um...NO.

Seriously? NO MORE DRAMA. I am quitting Broadway and going back to Kansas because this yellow brick road crap ain't fun anymore Toto.

The intra-ocular pressure in my eyes is high and there is significant nerve damage in the right eye. What does it mean Vern? Possibly Glaucoma. Go see a specialist. More tests. More concern. More drama.

Sigh. A heroine's job is never done.

**For my youngER readers a record was an ancient form we primitive elderly persons used to record sound, primarily music. These antiquated relics could be found in the form of what was known as vinyl and were approximately 10 inches across and round. Grooves were formed in the vinyl which, when you placed a needle of a "record player" on the grooves the record, began to play whatever was recorded. The sound was amazing. Not at all like the CD's or MP3's of today's generation. It was as if you were listening to scratchy muffled sound coming out of a can and through a wall. Oh and the crackling, scratching and skipping was a beautiful touch.