Getting to eye surgery while living in an area of declining population can be a challenge. I ran through my list of people who are still sound for the trip, but not employed, without finding anyone free. The last time, I had six months, and while that was a horrid amount of time to wait, with that much planning time, I could make it happen.
The lady scheduling the surgery didn't give me the call back with the time of day until Thursday for a Monday surgery. IF it were to be in the afternoon, I had it covered. 11:45 meant, nope. One of my horsing around buddies who generally meets me in Des Moines (nearly in the center of the state) offered to do it if I could not find anyone closer.
A helpful neighbor got the number for the SETA bus when my friend didn't respond, and so I reluctantly scheduled ($25.00 up, $25.00 back, and I'd be collected at 10 am for an 11;45 surgery. Reading a book at that point is NOT an option. Once those drops are in, you can't even see large objects clearly.
Friday, my friend got back in town and said she'd leave at 7 to be at my place by 10. I canceled the SETA with glee. I'd rather be with a friend any day.
At 9:45, Old Gray Mare arrived, and took the "library" tour after admiring the garage slab.
We left in plenty of time, figuring in time to wait 10-15 minutes for road construction, figure out how she's getting lost in Chariton, and "get lost" ourselves, as I had an address and general directions, but had not ever been, nor could I remember seeing the building when I'd been in town.
DH drove my car. As she crept down the driveway, setting the seat better, getting the feel of the handling, getting the mirrors adjusted, finding the necessary knobs and buttons, she paused at the bottom of the hill just as a huge semi crested the south hill and barreled toward us.
Had I been driving, I'd have pulled out and floored it, being to 55 in seconds, long before the vehicle hit the bridge, but DH watched him come on, and said, "I don't think I can make it in time."
Traffic jam, I thought. Sure enough, we didn't see anyone else in our lane until we got on Highway 14 ten miles down the road.
She set the cruise for 55, as speeding in my can can happen in the blink of an eye, and began to enjoy the scenery, commenting on what we passed.
She told about seeing a large bird on the way down. "Buzzard, hawk, or eagle?" I asked.
"Some kind of hawk."
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