2013 is going out like with a pathetic whimper, as I
have managed to develop pink eye in both eyes. A couple of days ago I woke up
to discover that my eyes had crusted over during the night. This lovely
condition was joined by an intolerable itch and uncontrollable tearing. Two
days later I look like an emotionally unstable single woman who just spent a
weekend binge watching the Hallmark Channel.
Sunday morning I drove the family through a driving
rainstorm over to a YMCA in south side to hear Gordon Fort preach, despite the
itching watery eyes. This should tell you something about the lengths I will go
nowadays to hear a decent sermon. Anyway, I sat there the entire time, tissues
in hand, dobbing my eyes every few minutes. Although Gordon’s message was
terrific, I feel it necessary to point out for his sake as well as mine that it
wasn’t that terrific. It wasn’t his
soaring rhetoric that drove me to tears, in other words. More infection than inflection.
When I got back home, Pam insisted that I go to
Patient First. I obeyed and sat in the packed lobby for two hours before
finally seeing the no nonsense Indian doctor, who instantly upbraided me for
wearing my contacts. Didn’t I know that wearing contacts while suffering from
conjunctivitis was the worst possible thing to do?
Me: Well, er..I suppose I…
Doctor: Now you’ve gone and made it much worse! I
feel certain that you have most likely scratched your retinas!!
She then began spitting out orders to an assistant
and me.
Doctor: Nurse!! Get me the eye bucket. You, lay
down!
She then proceeded to take charge of my case with
militaristic glee, ordering people around, peering into my eyes with bright
lights, poking my eyeballs with all sorts of swabs and probes, explaining
nothing as she went.
Doctor: Just as I suspected!! You have a scratch on
your right cornea. You are not to wear contacts again for 7 days, do you
understand?!
Me: (timidly) Yes Ma’am.
She then began feverishly writing out notes and
typing up the paperwork, all the while mumbling to herself, clearly still quite
upset with me for my contact wearing ignorance. Then suddenly, she took in a
big cleansing breath and turned to stare directly into my bloodshot eyes. For
the first time, she managed a faint, Mona Lisa smile.
Doctor: Now, you listen to me, Mr. Dunnevant. You
are to go home and begin putting two drops into each eye every 4 hours for the
next two days. Then you will come back here to see me again. You understand
what I am saying?
Me: Yes Ma’am.
Doctor: Under no circumstances are you to put
contacts in your eyes. When eyes start to puff up, place hot compresses on
them. Do not scratch them or rub them. You have already done too much damage
with this foolish wearing of the contact lenses.
She then smiled brightly and patted me on the
shoulder. “I see you back here in two days, ok?”
I must say, as bad as having pink eye is, it was
quite refreshing to encounter a decisive, straight talking doctor for a change.
If all doctors were like this woman, maybe I’d go more often. She didn’t care
one bit for my feelings. All she
cared about was making me well again, and keeping me, the idiot, from doing any
more harm to myself. Or maybe I liked her because she reminded me of what I
would be like if I were a doctor. Direct, confrontational and borderline rude
people tend to appreciate direct, confrontational rudeness in others, I
suppose.
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