Eye fishing
All I really wanted to do tonight was to come home after a nice dinner with an old friend, and mourn for the failure of my biochemical engineering quiz. Maybe watch a little of The Practice, or get some sonoluminiscence reading done -- depending on how I felt after all that mourning.
Instead, when I took my contact lens out of my eye, I found that it had torn, and the other half was stuck in my eye. For those of you who think that this might be some catastrophic predicament -- it really isn't. Of course, I had to take some time to convince my mom that I was not, in fact, going to go blind as a result.
She insisted we go to a clinic right away -- and even refused to let me drive.
Back it up a little: this has happened before, which is why I wasn't half as excited. I was just not keen at the prospect of long queues at the doctor's. I know that the only way to fish the broken shrapnel out of my eye is to drop some dye into the eye -- it would take supersonic vision otherwise.
After an hour or so of waiting, I explained to the doctor how we last managed to get it out; records say that I have consulted with him before, but I can safely say that I have never in my life seen the guy. He didn't mention anything about the dye, but he asked me to lie down, and prodded my eye under a bright light; I knew it wasn't going to work.
The thing that bugs me about visits to clinics and hospitals when my mom is with me is how much she embarrasses me. I say this not with annoyance (although I must admit to this being my attitude in my awkward adolescence) but with endearment. These days I'm rather impervious to being embarrassed in public; what does it matter that I get made fun of by people who I'm probably never going to see again?
My mom thinks the world of me -- of her three babies, to be fair. She thinks that I'm the most beautiful, intelligent, kind being that ever walked on two legs. She also thinks that every single male within the age range of 20 to 35 is interested in her daughter.
"Ooh, did you see how the doctor was talking at you? He was so nervous! He likes you, I can tell." She beamed. It scares me because she really thinks this! I'm not kidding, and neither is she.
Yes, the doctor seemed a little jittery -- but my first thought was that he had to pee. My mother rubbished my hypothesis, and continued to rave about him -- as if I was just going to pick a doctor up from a clinic -- nice tan, doesn't look like the doctor type huh?, more like a swimming coach, a good build on that body too, and did you seeeeee how he was looking at you?
Yes, Mom, he was looking intently into my eye(s). He was also trying to fish out that contact lens fragment, remember? Which was what we came here for, remember?
That lasted our entire trip to the hospital. Why were we going to the hospital? Because Dr. Nice-tan couldn't get it out, and didn't have the necessary dye. He very nicely (albeit still seemingly urgent to use the loo) advised that we go to a private hospital -- where they would have the dye in stock. "It's just going to cost you a little, seeing as how late it is and all," he warned. In the end, he felt sorry that he couldn't do anything, and didn't even charge us consultation fees. The consolation for him was that I was his last patient for the night, so he could then retire -- for the night.
So off we were to the hospital, where I told my story ("Don't worry, you're the third one this week."), they took my temperature and blood pressure (I know: huh?), plonked some dye in my eye, and got it out.
That was my night -- and now I have none of it left.
On the way home, my mom couldn't help herself: "Ooh, this one looks more like a doctor (again: huh?). Did you seeeeee how he was looking at you?"
They are also very generous with their bills, is what they are. (Click to see bill.)
***
Dr. L (on normalising quantities): "Who runs faster -- a man or an ant? How do we compare? An ant can take a leaf, fold it, and make a home out of it -- can we? So who is to say we are superior to an ant? I don't know."
KR (muttering under his breath): "The guy (Dr. L) has issues!"
Instead, when I took my contact lens out of my eye, I found that it had torn, and the other half was stuck in my eye. For those of you who think that this might be some catastrophic predicament -- it really isn't. Of course, I had to take some time to convince my mom that I was not, in fact, going to go blind as a result.
She insisted we go to a clinic right away -- and even refused to let me drive.
Back it up a little: this has happened before, which is why I wasn't half as excited. I was just not keen at the prospect of long queues at the doctor's. I know that the only way to fish the broken shrapnel out of my eye is to drop some dye into the eye -- it would take supersonic vision otherwise.
After an hour or so of waiting, I explained to the doctor how we last managed to get it out; records say that I have consulted with him before, but I can safely say that I have never in my life seen the guy. He didn't mention anything about the dye, but he asked me to lie down, and prodded my eye under a bright light; I knew it wasn't going to work.
The thing that bugs me about visits to clinics and hospitals when my mom is with me is how much she embarrasses me. I say this not with annoyance (although I must admit to this being my attitude in my awkward adolescence) but with endearment. These days I'm rather impervious to being embarrassed in public; what does it matter that I get made fun of by people who I'm probably never going to see again?
My mom thinks the world of me -- of her three babies, to be fair. She thinks that I'm the most beautiful, intelligent, kind being that ever walked on two legs. She also thinks that every single male within the age range of 20 to 35 is interested in her daughter.
"Ooh, did you see how the doctor was talking at you? He was so nervous! He likes you, I can tell." She beamed. It scares me because she really thinks this! I'm not kidding, and neither is she.
Yes, the doctor seemed a little jittery -- but my first thought was that he had to pee. My mother rubbished my hypothesis, and continued to rave about him -- as if I was just going to pick a doctor up from a clinic -- nice tan, doesn't look like the doctor type huh?, more like a swimming coach, a good build on that body too, and did you seeeeee how he was looking at you?
Yes, Mom, he was looking intently into my eye(s). He was also trying to fish out that contact lens fragment, remember? Which was what we came here for, remember?
That lasted our entire trip to the hospital. Why were we going to the hospital? Because Dr. Nice-tan couldn't get it out, and didn't have the necessary dye. He very nicely (albeit still seemingly urgent to use the loo) advised that we go to a private hospital -- where they would have the dye in stock. "It's just going to cost you a little, seeing as how late it is and all," he warned. In the end, he felt sorry that he couldn't do anything, and didn't even charge us consultation fees. The consolation for him was that I was his last patient for the night, so he could then retire -- for the night.
So off we were to the hospital, where I told my story ("Don't worry, you're the third one this week."), they took my temperature and blood pressure (I know: huh?), plonked some dye in my eye, and got it out.
That was my night -- and now I have none of it left.
On the way home, my mom couldn't help herself: "Ooh, this one looks more like a doctor (again: huh?). Did you seeeeee how he was looking at you?"
They are also very generous with their bills, is what they are. (Click to see bill.)
***
Dr. L (on normalising quantities): "Who runs faster -- a man or an ant? How do we compare? An ant can take a leaf, fold it, and make a home out of it -- can we? So who is to say we are superior to an ant? I don't know."
KR (muttering under his breath): "The guy (Dr. L) has issues!"
posted by Laughingcow at 1:23 am
3 Comments:
Wow. That is a one huge bill.
but heh, glad that the eyepiece is out of your eye. =) (and at least you got to peer at some nice doctor. haha!)
Zen|ith: The last time I had a piece of contact lens fished out at my family doctor's, it cost me $20! Apparent the after-midnight surcharge for these things is 600%. :p
a.l.: Better not let my mom read that! Otherwise it will never end! ;)
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