Before we get this therapy session under way, I would first like to thank everyone for their help and support during this rough time. By everyone, of course, I mean all of my adoring fans who spent countless hours running errands and buying me stuff to help me through this ordeal and by "all of my adoring fans who care", I simply mean me and one other person that I just made up. His name is Edison. I suppose that I could have just opened this paragraph with "I'd like to thank me for helping me" and left it at that. It would have saved a lot of time and been much shorter. This sentence shouldn't even be here. Good thing I don't pay me by the word.
For those of you who have been waiting on the edge of your seat for all this time, I'm happy to report that the surgery went well, I guess. I really have no idea how these things are supposed to go. I tried to look up cornea transplants on Wikipedia but wound up spending three hours reading about Japanese tentacle porn (and one article on the 15th Indian Infantry Division). I will admit that the latter was merely by accident. The two topics are closely related and it's pretty common for readers to get lost in either subject while researching the other. Based on my extensive web reading, the fact that I was not raped by an octopus or squid leads me to believe that things in my eye region were successful. However, that doesn't mean that I didn't walk away from the whole experience more than a little disappointed.
It's been a little over three weeks since the transplant and there has yet to be any signs of super powers or any other neat, newly-inherited traits that my cornea has brought me. I haven't seen dead people and I haven't become dead sexy. In fact, if anything, it's only brought me limitations as I have an entire list of things I can't do now as opposed to being able to fly and rob banks. So much for my self-hyped guest appearance on Season 3 of Heroes. One of the major limitations is my ability to lift things. I have been instructed to avoid lifting anything that weighs more than two or three pounds, due to the strain it can put on my eye. As you can imagine, this has made day-to-day life much more difficult. [Editor's note: insert some kind of personal bathroom joke here.] [Editor's note: insert explanation of joke here because audience is stupid and can't grasp the fact that Randy was implying that he can't use the bathroom properly because his junk weighs more than 3 pounds and lifting such is prohibited.] [Editor's note: find new audience.]
Other limitations include having to avoid working out and other stressful situations. I asked the doctor if I would still be able to write after the surgery and he replied, "I wish you wouldn't, if only for the sake of the rest of the world but, sadly, nothing from the operation should prevent you from doing it. All of us around the office were hoping that the humanitarian in you would stop you instead." But why change years of tradition? Not that it mattered. For the first week or so afterward, I couldn't really see anyway. Had I bothered to even try and write, the results probably would have turned out more unreadable than my series of "Helen Keller" updates or that one time that I decided to write while really drunk. They both look the same. I still can't see very well but things are improving slowly. The eye requires constant maintenance as it seems like I am always flushing it with eye drops and anti-rejection fluids. I'm not sure if these medicines are gateway drugs but I would hate to find myself a couple of years down the road in a drug rehab program because I got busted for huffing Visine. I can quit any time I want.
Things are progressing along nicely on the visual healing front also. After I left the hospital, the area around my eye was puffy and bruised. My face looked like that of a Midwest housewife who "accidentally" walked into a door after she got all uppity about her rights, the need to vote, and not having dinner ready in time after her husband came home drunk after work. Now, however, it just looks like I need a lot more sleep, so at least the questions have stopped. I can only play up the domestic violence role so much before people stop seeing me as a victim and more as just a huge pussy.
So, I'm back to struggling for normality, whatever that means. Skip Walker bet me $5 that I couldn't work that phrase into this update and I'm going to work my elbows into his face if he doesn't pay up. Oh yeah, I got depth perception now, bitch. Prepare for contact! Or contacts. Which I might have to get eventually. I don't know. Ophthalmology confuses me.
For those of you who have been waiting on the edge of your seat for all this time, I'm happy to report that the surgery went well, I guess. I really have no idea how these things are supposed to go. I tried to look up cornea transplants on Wikipedia but wound up spending three hours reading about Japanese tentacle porn (and one article on the 15th Indian Infantry Division). I will admit that the latter was merely by accident. The two topics are closely related and it's pretty common for readers to get lost in either subject while researching the other. Based on my extensive web reading, the fact that I was not raped by an octopus or squid leads me to believe that things in my eye region were successful. However, that doesn't mean that I didn't walk away from the whole experience more than a little disappointed.
It's been a little over three weeks since the transplant and there has yet to be any signs of super powers or any other neat, newly-inherited traits that my cornea has brought me. I haven't seen dead people and I haven't become dead sexy. In fact, if anything, it's only brought me limitations as I have an entire list of things I can't do now as opposed to being able to fly and rob banks. So much for my self-hyped guest appearance on Season 3 of Heroes. One of the major limitations is my ability to lift things. I have been instructed to avoid lifting anything that weighs more than two or three pounds, due to the strain it can put on my eye. As you can imagine, this has made day-to-day life much more difficult. [Editor's note: insert some kind of personal bathroom joke here.] [Editor's note: insert explanation of joke here because audience is stupid and can't grasp the fact that Randy was implying that he can't use the bathroom properly because his junk weighs more than 3 pounds and lifting such is prohibited.] [Editor's note: find new audience.]
Other limitations include having to avoid working out and other stressful situations. I asked the doctor if I would still be able to write after the surgery and he replied, "I wish you wouldn't, if only for the sake of the rest of the world but, sadly, nothing from the operation should prevent you from doing it. All of us around the office were hoping that the humanitarian in you would stop you instead." But why change years of tradition? Not that it mattered. For the first week or so afterward, I couldn't really see anyway. Had I bothered to even try and write, the results probably would have turned out more unreadable than my series of "Helen Keller" updates or that one time that I decided to write while really drunk. They both look the same. I still can't see very well but things are improving slowly. The eye requires constant maintenance as it seems like I am always flushing it with eye drops and anti-rejection fluids. I'm not sure if these medicines are gateway drugs but I would hate to find myself a couple of years down the road in a drug rehab program because I got busted for huffing Visine. I can quit any time I want.
Things are progressing along nicely on the visual healing front also. After I left the hospital, the area around my eye was puffy and bruised. My face looked like that of a Midwest housewife who "accidentally" walked into a door after she got all uppity about her rights, the need to vote, and not having dinner ready in time after her husband came home drunk after work. Now, however, it just looks like I need a lot more sleep, so at least the questions have stopped. I can only play up the domestic violence role so much before people stop seeing me as a victim and more as just a huge pussy.
So, I'm back to struggling for normality, whatever that means. Skip Walker bet me $5 that I couldn't work that phrase into this update and I'm going to work my elbows into his face if he doesn't pay up. Oh yeah, I got depth perception now, bitch. Prepare for contact! Or contacts. Which I might have to get eventually. I don't know. Ophthalmology confuses me.
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