BB Grey–musings

April 2nd

Mom had her eye fixed today. They carved out the cataracts—peeled back the fog so she can see clear again. Not that there’s much worth looking at these days. Now she won’t have an excuse when she ignores the dishes in the sink or the way my boots track mud over the linoleum.

We got to the clinic before sunup. They took her behind them big swinging doors at 6:45, and by the time I’d unwrapped my sausage McGriddle, my phone buzzed—Done. Come get me. Hell, they might as well have charged by the minute. When I got there at 7:45, she was perched on a plastic chair outside the waiting room like a broody hen. “They needed the space,” she said. Like I was late.

Saw the bill lying there. Medicare paid $5,500. Near about six grand an hour. Makes a man think.

Last fall, Lenny got me a job out at the equestrian center—sticking a busted door back on its hinges. Took me two hours. Charged ’em three hundred, hands shaking when I wrote the number down. Thought sure they’d laugh me right off the property. But the lady just nodded, peeled the bills from her purse like it was nothing. Took Lenny and the boys to the Circle R that night, fed ’em steak and whiskey, and still had sixty-five dollars crumpled in my pocket after.

Imagine charging $5,500. Two hours of fiddling with eyeballs, walking out with eleven grand. Could’ve bought that little plot by the river. Should’ve stayed in school. Should’ve learned to fix eyes instead of doors. Or windows—folks say eyes are windows to the soul. Reckon souls pay better.

Got Mom home. She’s hungry, so I’ll fetch her some chicken.

Might watch the game later. Turn in early. Another day done.