Increasing neediness, now with bloodshot eye.
Yeah, that's right, eye, not eyes.
My phone rang last night. Quavering little old lady voice: "Cath? I think I have a medical emergency." Me, actually thinking this was real, asked "What's wrong?" and imagined having to call the sheriff in her county to get 911. Not necessary.
A 20 minute dramatic oration about a red spot in her left eye ensued. I will spare you the play-by-play that followed, but she saw this spot when she examined her eye in the MAGNIFYING MIRROR. Yes, I'm not making that up. My mother has allergies, she has eyedrops AND a pill to take for allergies. She of course will not take either one, because she imagines side effects every time she reads one of those oh-so-helpful warning pamphlets enclosed with our prescriptions these days, thank you to the assholes who thought that was a great idea, and can I send my mother to live with YOU? Because she would be fine and enjoy life much more if she would take the medications prescribed by her doctor, but she won't. Anti-anxiety drugs are out of the question when she won't use eyedrops.
I of course told her to call the doctor in the morning if she was concerned. Her vision was fine, her eyesight is actually better than MINE since her cataract surgery, and she finally admitted, after 40 minutes of this shit, that it probably was not a big deal.
So, after beating this topic to death, until my cellphone battery was nearly dead too, I got off the phone. And poured a Supersized glass of wine, and called Cousin C.
Thank GOD for Cousin C, she validates my perceptions, and had me laughing with her Murphy Brown-like story of The Painter Who Will Not Finish the Job. She thinks she may have adopted him or something. She is sick to death of living with her furniture all bunched up in one room, climbing over things (at 64) to reach the phone. She's a hoot. She's going to Greece in a couple of months. I'll be happy if I can get away for MDS&W.
My mother called me at work this morning to tell me that she made an eye doctor appt. for 1 today. I expect a call this evening to tell me the 40 minute blow by blow of THAT. I think that call will go to voicemail.