You know, in the grand scheme of things, I don’t mind the horse pills at all.
‘Why?’ might you ask.
The answer is that I have to have special eye drops to clear up this acute case of pink eye. Two drops, each eye, three times a day.
Now, let the record stand that when it comes to eye drops, I’m just a plain old sissy. Yes, if you’ve ever put in contacts you’re a bigger man than I. Even if you’re a woman.
For some reason, whenever my eye even gets the remotest inkling that something’s about to enter it, it shuts. I’ve tried it with everything from drops to my finger. And let me tell you, the latter hurt.
Even if I know it’s good for me. Even if I know it’s just liquid. Even if I’ve done it dozens of times before, it doesn’t matter. I go into super squint mode and can’t get the drops in.
Oh sure, I’ve tried to trick the eye. Super speed or even volume. No dice. Squirt something at it, and it all gets stuck in those super thick lashes of mine.
Since Tamara’s asleep trying to recover from the plague I just foisted on her as a present for driving me to the doctor, I opted to let her sleep and have Michele H. do it instead.
First the was the approach. The kids have been pissing her off something feirce today. I thought it was just my illness, but all of them have been trying people’s nerves for the last two days. I suppose it’s nature’s way of saying Thanksgiving Hell is almost upon us. If this were a Buffy episode, it’d be entitled “From the dinner table, it devours.”
Michele was just more than eager to go fiddling (good enough f word as another, I guess) with someone’s eyes at this point. Her near-zero resistance to the idea should have immediately put me at bay.
However, 5:00pm and and I needed drops.
I sat back in a little metal folding chair and scenes from Clockwork Orange flushed over me. Now I know she worked in a doctor’s office, but she didn’t have to be enjoying this so much.
I informed her of my little optical phobia and she knew just the trick.
Gently she inserted her claws prying my eyes open, while skillfully with the other hand unleashing a tide of burning fluid.
Well, that’s what the eye thought. I’m sure the actual even was quite peaceful and involved a cooling sensation at the end of it somewhere.
Anyhow, when I came to, and the laughing and pointing stopped, Michele handed me back the bottle and went back to dealing with minors.
Marni, once again, came up to inform me that I looked no better off than Godzilla himself. My beat red eyes were just a thing of fasination with her.
The only problem was, if mom was allowed to play with Walt’s eyes… why wasn’t she?
I can’t help but think I now have to start watching my back, especially when I sleep. Come to think of it, that’s good advice handed off to me by Chris long, long ago. Right after he burned my house down with plastic-wrap.