Husband and I were catching up on the day’s events last night. My Dad had been in hospital for a cataract operation so I’d been on the ‘phone checking out how he was. Husband asked after Dad’s new vision. “Still a bit blurry,” I said. “He’s on some tablets that affect the action of his iris… It’ll take some time.”
It took us back two weeks to Daughter’s rush to hospital for the appendicitis that wasn’t. We were still in the ER and things were just concluding; the medics were finally able to give her something for the pain and the admin staff were doing the paperwork to admit her. Panic over; most likely diagnosis: a tummy infection. We began to laugh about a noise coming from the next bay (was it a sneeze or a mobile ‘phone?) when Daughter said, “Mum, I can’t see. My vision has gone blurry.”
I was thrown into panic again: repanic – there should be a word. We weren’t 100% sure what was wrong with Daughter but you don’t just ignore symptoms like that so I began to flap. I wanted to wave over a doctor and Husband said, “I’m sure it’s fine.” (It was a temporary consequence of the pain relief they’d given her.)
So last night, lying on our bed, thinking about the blurry vision of both my father and my daughter, I berated Husband. “You’re so casual,” I said.
“I’m Ice-Man,” he said.
“No, I’m fairly certain, if you were a super hero, you’d be Blasé-Man.”
“Help! Help! My cat’s stuck up the tree,” Enid cried. “No problem, Ma’am, Blasé-Man is here. Cat’s like trees; I expect he’ll come down when he’s hungry.”
“Help! That man stole my purse! Get him-” Mildred cried. “Aw, Ma’am. How much cash was in there? Only a few pounds? No problem Ma’am; that’s not so much to lose…”
It worries me slightly that I’m beginning to toy with Blasé-Man (in my head, people.) What does Blasé-Man care about? What costume would he wear? I am fairly certain that it would involve pink polyester. (He wouldn’t need to worry much about chafing because from his reclining position there wouldn’t be much rubbing.)
I think it’s time I wrap this post up now…