A year in pictures.

I've been thinking about this place lately and miss sharing things.  I know, because I'm such a sharer, right?  Whatever, I do miss it.  I've been wondering why I let it go and think I just became very unfocused or something. Let's go back to this time last year, shall we? 

Right around this time last year, Miss Arse lost her sight.  She wasn't blind as in the world went dark and she needed a service dog named Libby or anything.  I mean, hell, she's got me, right?  Right.  She could see variances in light and dark, she could tell if something was large and red although she'd say it was purple and have no clue it was a firetruck.  But she wasn't Stevie Wonder, either.  So, what happened?  Wellllp, she neglected cataracts for over 25 years and they rebelled on her, causing massive infections in both eyes and fusing to the corneas in both, one worse than the other.  So, repairs began since doctors just swore they could fix this for her and she was game to try.

The poor old bird was also terrified, as you can see here.  This was in the waiting room, just before her first surgery.  We both had to take Xanax on this day and I still had a panic attack that necessitated me sitting in my car, reading an IKEA catalog and trying to not vomit the whole time.
 

Once it was over and I had her back home, she was good.  Of course, she was also drugged, but hey...she was happy. It was an unusually long removal that involved both laser and knife, and she wound up with a destroyed cornea but hey, she didn't die.  It was a good day!

I think the corneal transplant nearly killed her, though.  Doesn't she look dead?  Actually, the transplant was super-easy on her but she had to lay in bed 48 straight hours on her back, facing the ceiling, with only momentary breaks to pee or eat.  After hour 6, she wasn't so much fun anymore.

After hour 30, I was desperate so I loaded her in my car and drove her to my house so she could sleep in my bed and be entertained by my cats while I crawled into my recliner and ignored her.  You know, just for a change of pace.  It was during this time we began calling her Old Cadaver Eye, for the record.  Desperate times call for desperate measures when it comes to amusement.  As you can see, it was an exciting time for us all.  And yes, my bedroom looks that boring most of the time. What*ever, it's clean.

While the transplant went well and by God, she could see out of that eye again, they had to tweak the cadaver flesh because a stitch (ewww!) malfunctioned.  That deal went so well she didn't even have to wear a patch *and she got good drugs...see?  She was showing her nifty new cornea off here.

Once that eye was repaired and healing well, they tackled the other one.  Luckily, they saved her cornea but this time she didn't get the good drugs and things went harder than they thought.  It hurt her very much and she was whiny so I bought her a Whopper and made her coffee. As you can see from the noticeable lack of happiness on her face this time, Whoppers and coffee can only do so much when you hurt. But, in the end, the doctors were right and while it took 9 months to get her there, she can see so well now that she's quilting again.  And...discussions are underway to buy her a pickup truck soon because she's going to get her license back and she wants to be able to haul stuff.   Lord, I love my mom. :-D   But, for these 9 months, I was busy-busy driving her to multiple appointments and helping with the 30+ drops per day she had to do at one point, in addition to cooking and cleaning for her, plus just keeping her company since she couldn't see her computer or TV.  In the end, I hope if I ever see 82 that I'm mostly like her.  One of these days, I might even tell her that.

In the midst of all this eye drama, Beatrice gave up sleeping in the casserole dish and chose the center of the couch instead.

She's adorable no matter where she sleeps, isn't she?  One of my old lady cats (19 this August!), Ginger, had other plans and not only stole Bea's casserole dish idea...

...she tried to make it better.  Or warmer.  Or something.  A cookie sheet sort of thwarted her plan, though.

No one fretted over the dish sleeping; she was just stringing us along because she had an axe to grind.  We tuned her out.
Bwahahahahaha!
*pauses*
Sorry.

And no, my cats aren't spoiled.  Why would you think that?

Jake had a busy year. He turned 19 and got his first ice cream cake ever.  Go him. Maybe when he's 20, I'll let him get a driver license...

That's kind of pitiful, I suppose, but hey, he's lucky I didn't get him a chin implant to go with it.

I did, however, get him very cool "doll eye" contacts...one blue and one violet.  No, he's not spoiled either.

Then Christmas came...he got tons of junk and taught Miss Arse to play Rock Band. And the best part?  She could see it!  She still sucked but dammit, she could see it!

His best friends got him the tattoo he's wanted since he was 14 for Christmas.  I maintain that with friends like these, no one needs enemies.  It's the ugliest damn tattoo ever, but he loves it and hell, I guess he really did want it since he waited 5 years for it.  At least it's a nice job, all straight and such.  But really...Manson stuff?  On your arm?  At least get Bowie. Let's see, what else?  *digs through pictures*

Some idiot ran over my mailbox.  I believe this makes 6 of them in 10 years.  Take it from me - don't buy a house on an inside corner unless you like disposable mailboxes.

We grew hot pink mold.  That's special, right?  And kind of exciting, too?  Only it's not really mold, it's a bacteria called Serratia marcescens. I have no idea what started it but it's been an ongoing battle in towels, shower and toilet since it started and it comes on fast.  Like in hours.  What you see on that towel happened less than 12 hours after that (freshly washed) towel was used and dropped in a hamper.  It'll grow in a shower or toilet that was scrubbed a day or so before and it smells like Fritos or the pads on dogs' feet (which are interchangeable, by the way).  I now buy a lot of bleach.  *nods*

 

I did do some cooking and took pictures of one dish, planning on a blog post but it just never happened.  I made trotters for some elderly neighbors who love them.  As for me...?

Even I'm not eating this stuff. I do have limits.

So, let's see...what else?  Oh, back to Jake for a moment if no one minds.  His music has really taken off and, as such, he's been able to get in backstage at various concerts and hang out with the musicians.  Apparently his new thing is to take "surprise!" pictures with these people.

Here he is with Alice from Crystal Castles. I was sort of horrified by the look on her face and asked him if he stank.  He said no, that someone had just hit her in her face and her mouth was bleeding and she didn't want that shown in a picture.  Well, alrighty then. But as horrified as I was over poor Alice's expression, the one that came next was worse.

He licked Gary Numan. You know, *this Gary Numan, one of my all-time favorites. And all I get to do is fight pink mold and cook trotters.  Life isn't fair...not a damn bit fair.

The other interesting thing that happened is that Jake nearly became a statistic.  He'd gone to a club to see (and probably lick) The Dead Kennedys.  While there, someone drugged his drink. Yep, exactly what you hear about in the media and figure will never happen to you...well, it happened to him. Thankfully, he was with a group of excellent and caring friends, as well as the father of one friend.  They were able to see something was terribly wrong and call for help quickly...they saved his life. I get the dreaded call no parent wants from the dad at around 1am, saying he's at the hospital with Jake and I need to hurry.  I hurried.  When I got there, this is what I found and I was scared *shitless.

He spent a couple of days in the ICU because they had a little trouble getting his heart regulated and he was so terribly stomach-sick, but within an hour of me arriving, they knew he was going to live and I was able to relax a little. I took this picture so that all who see it will know (almost) firsthand that this can and *does happen.  People will drug your drink.  In the blink of an eye, in one dumbass move on his part that he's probably done a million times - turning his back on his drink - he very nearly died. And I still cry every time I see this picture and realize how close I came to losing him.

So, that's it for my photodocumentary of what's been going on in my life. I know, you wish we could trade lives, don't you?  It's been a long, rough year and in the end, Tucker had the best idea...

I should have found myself a nice old sari and covered my head with it, then relaxed in the knowledge that I was safe because no one could see me.  Ahhh, were it all this simple...