I apologize in advance for the picture...

I've never been much of a patient.  I'm more of a health care provider type.  I've only been hospitalized twice in my life : once was to actually be born and the other was to birth a baby.  I've had very little experience with being a patient.  I had my wisdom teeth taken out once.  Horrible experience.  I spent most of the 3 days recovering in bed with a head the size of a watermelon.  I didn't want to get up and I didn't want to take my meds and I didn't want to swallow water and I didn't to be touched but I didn't want to be left alone.  It wasn't a good couple of days.  I did stick tooth pick in my knee once - but that's another story.  It was a real bright moment in my life.  Anyway, to sum up the patient part of my medical career is to say that it has been short and thankfully so. 

About a year ago I started experiencing excessive tearing.  Not life altering but yet completely annoying.  It's the equivalent of your pantyhose always falling down or your socks always sliding down into your shoes.  It's almost as annoying as a car full of 6 year olds singing the only line of a Justin Beiber song they know.  (Baaaabaaaay baaaabbbaaay baaabbbbaaay ooooooo).  So for a year now I have dealt with my left eye tearing and crying at inopportune times.  It's really hard to have a serious conversation about flossing with someone while you have huge crocodile tears running down your face.  But a person can only handle so much and when my mascara wouldn't stay on I decided enough was enough.  There just is no justice in a one makeup eyed Louisiana girl.  I looked like a real live QVC make up special.  One side was the before and the other side was the after.  Ridiculous.  Now as you all know going to the doctor is not as easy as it used to be.  Doctors have to look at you, then refer you to another doctor that has to look at you a couple of times.  This doctor will then finally tell you what is wrong with you which is usually what the first doctor said anyway  and then one short year later they decide to treat you.  In my case the diagnosis was Dacryostenosis and in normal terms means stopped up tear duct.  The treatment for me was a dacryocystorhinostomy.  And in normal terms it means this: surgery.... where they place a plastic tube from your eye to your nose.  It's not as bad as it sounds.  I did wake up one time during the surgery and they were hammering and fine chiseling on my face.  I must have said something funny because I remember the mad laughter from the surgical team.  I think I said "HELLO ! I'M AWAKE!".  Humorous, I know.  Now after the next round of Versed I was feeling good and didn't know about any more hammering.  The next thing I remember was announcing to Jeremy - well it wasn't exactly announcing-  it was more like slurring "I'm not pregnant".  His exact response was, "Ummmm OK?".  Then I heard the nurse laugh and tell him I had taken a pregnancy test and it was negative.  He was still confused, he thought we had come for my eye. 

The next few days were nothing unusual. I spent 2-3 days whining and taking full advantage of my "patient" status. I slept. Then whined.  I ate. Then whined.  I watched television.  Then whined.  I really milked it.  I figure if I'm gonna have to lay up and be whiny, then I'm gonna be the best whiny patient ever. I even had poor Paige feeling sorry for me.  She asked me if it hurt and I gave her a dramatic story on the extent of the pain. Of course she believed me. I even left the little bit of dried blood on my nose to make my story more credible. It's sad when a mother will  misuse a sweet six year old's sympathy for her own personal enjoyment. I may have even asked her to rub my feet.  I can't remember for sure.  Then,  I asked Jeremy if I could have a bell to ring.  He said I'd gone too far. 

'Til Tomorrow