U is for Ulcers and Underwire


This is for Monday but for some reason, Word Press would not let me safe it as a draft. So you get it today, too. For “U,” I thought I would write about something that is going on now and a story from a few years ago that was somewhat amusing and embarrassing.

My older dog Ernie had eye surgery about 6 weeks ago. He had ulcers in both eye, the one in the left eye was very bad and had to have a graft to heal it. Ernie has dry eyes and takes medicine for that, but he still got these ulcers, for some unknown reason. After the $1,800 operation, Ernie had to wear one of those awful “cones of shame” around his neck so he wouldn’t scratch at his eye. Smart dog (or dumb dog, depends on your viewpoint), Ernie was able to get his back foot into the bottom of the cone to scratch his chin. He went back last week for a recheck and his eyes were better than the doctor had ever seen them before. So perhaps Ernie is on the mend. He will have to have drops every day for the rest of his life, but he’s very good about having the drops put in his eyes.

So now for the other incident. About a month after 9/11, I went to Europe for a cruise. I was flying from New York to Barcelona. I had flown from San Antonio through Dallas to New York. At JFK Airport, I had to change terminals which meant that I had to go through the screening again. In the International Terminal, I set off the alarm. I couldn’t understand why since I had gotten on the plane with no problem in San Antonio.

I emptied my pockets, took off my watch, did everything I could think of to do to make the beeping stop. Finally the screener took me to the side and ran the wand over me several times. It kept going off when it reached my breasts. Then it finally came to me. I was wearing an bra with an underwire and the underwire was setting off the sensors. The screener (a woman) had to check my bra to be sure that was the problem, and then I was allowed into the terminal to catch my flight to Spain. I was so embarrassed that I must have been bright red because I am terrible when it comes to blushing. Needless to say, I have never worn an underwire bra traveling, and now most underwire bras do not have real wire in them.

I realize that these two stories have nothing to do with each other, but they were both “U”s and I wanted to tell them both. And you are better off for it.

This post is part of a month-long series, A-Z, that I am participating in for the month of April.

About mairedubhtx

I am a "youngish" grandmother of 15 year old twin granddaughter who has recently (is a year "recent"?) adopted Islam as my way of life, much to the consternation of my family. I love to read. I love to write. I am writing a book about my decision to revert, about my spiritual journey. I have another blog about stories from my youth, my parents, and grandparents. It's a blog so my OCD daughter will not be able to throw it out when I die. I suffer from depression and anxiety, for which I am treated, so my posts may be a bit dark at times. C'est la vie.
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