Flying From One Cuckoo's Nest to Another: The Adventures of Nurse Ratched

My lower back is killing me, but if I had to choose sympathy pains, I'd definitely go with the temporary incapacitation of back pain over permanent blindness -- no offense to Manny. So off I go today, very real (and quite excruciating) sympathy pains notwithstanding, to New York to accompany my mother to an orthopedist appointment (and play buffer between her and her full time home health care aide). The fun just never ends.

Back to Manny. I've been accommodating his every whim, with his being blind and losing his best buddy and all. I've allowed myself to forget his criminal tendencies, making allowances for all the peeing and pooping in the house and the whining because, frankly, I would not want to be in his paws. But could it be that this canine pain in the ass (ooh, but he's so cute) is playing me? Could it be that he can actually see?

I've had my suspicions, in spite of his frequent head on collisions with walls and people. Could a blind man really manage to get up on a table by himself and topple an entire grocery bag of food? Could a blind man locate an airtight container of kibble and remove the lid and help himself to a little snack? Could a blind man turn his gaze directly toward a fetching golden retriever strolling across the street and down the block, bark, and take off in an effort to say hello? And how many pairs of clean underwear can one blind man seek out and destroy? I'm skeptical.

Heck, maybe mom is faking it too, just to get me to visit more. I doubt it though; she hasn't been able to slip into a St. John suit or her Chanel flats for weeks, much less get her hair done. Nope, definitely not faking it!

This caretaking thing is for the birds, especially for someone who is about as inclined toward nurturing others as your average clerk at the Department of Motor Vehicles. Do you think it would be rude to ask my mom to put down the darn walker and rub my back?