It's weird, but my cat Baby practically jumps into my lap when she witnesses me sit down in my favorite chair with a salmon dinner. Salmon is one of my favorite foods, so I eat it often.
A few days ago I sat down with my salmon dinner plate on a tray in my lap. As always when eating salmon or chicken, I put one foot out in front of me to push the ottoman (that the cats are sprawled out upon) far, far away. This is primarily in an effort to alleviate Baby's pathetic begging and pleading that I am forced to endure.
This time, though Baby managed to stretch waaaaay over when I turned my head away for a split second. Before I knew it, she had a front paw on the edge of my dinner tray and a rear leg on the ottoman. Picture a cartoon character on a boat dock with one foot on the drifting boat and the other on one of the wooden planks of the pier. (Or, more appropriately, picture my sister Lisa in that precarious position. Last fall that is how she managed to tear her ACL.) Anyway, one of the two was destined to fall—Baby, or the tray of food.
It would have been a disaster if I hadn't caught the tray before it fell to the shag rug.
I got up, got Baby a little plate, and shared my (now getting cold) salmon with her, as usual.
Jelly, on the other hand, my 13.5-pound chubby cat, won't eat it. Freshly cooked salmon. It's just like my old tabby cat Martin (may he rest in peace!)—he wouldn't touch the stuff either. And it makes no sense because Jelly will eat just about anything else you put in front of her. And then continue to eat everyone else's.
But wait—allow me to tell you why I had momentarily turned my head away from my hot steaming yummy salmon dinner. It was to grab reading glasses. Why, you say, would anyone my age need reading glasses to eat dinner?!
Glad you asked. I now need reading glasses to see my plate. This enraging subject is definitely worthy of an entire epic blog post but—(just briefly)—the reason I can't see anything within five feet of my face anymore is because I made the colossal mistake of going back under the laser to have my under-corrected right eye corrected (after the LASIK incident of 2007). We won't even discuss the botched left eye today, which is still uncorrectable, except possibly by a whiz doc in British Columbia who has cornered the market on fixing decentered ablations.
No, never mind that.... I CAN'T SEE 90% of what I'm looking at, and I'M MAD.
Why do people get LASIK? Honestly, I thought the whole point of laser eye surgery was to get away from the inconvenience of glasses and contact lenses? You know how many pairs of glasses I own now, post-LASIK?? Sixteen.
Between home and work, I have two pair for computer distance, two pair for TV distance, and a total of twelve reading glasses stationed at various locations. Tonight, I discovered I need to put a pair in my car console as well for when I need to stop and read a map.
The magnification on the reading glasses I own ranges from 1.0 to 2.0 (as of now) to use at varying distances. I am not kidding. The four prescription pair of glasses I have are now useless. After my "corrective" surgery last Monday, I require 2.0 glasses to read a book. I also have to sit 12" from a computer screen, wearing 2.0 reading glasses, to do my job. Yeah, that's comfortable to do 10 hours a day.
On Tuesday when I went back for my next-day follow-up appointment, which is always a requirement after LASIK, I just sat there in the chair and cried, secretly wondering why I keep paying people to wreck my vision. I asked the doc to write me a prescription for my bad near-vision but he would not do that—at least, not for several days. He told me to come back in a week.
Thus, I will be returning to the laser doctor Wednesday to see what he can do to help me. Of course, this will mean more glasses. More money. More time away from work. More inconvenience.
Again, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and expecting different results. Clearly, I qualify.
If anyone asks for my advice about LASIK, it is this: Do not ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER, EVER get LASIK. This is an elective surgery. It is your choice. I'd give anything now to go back to wearing contact lenses during the day and prescription glasses at night, but it is too late.