Have suddenly discovered a newfound appreciation for religion, muttering around the house in my bathrobe, fuzzy slippers and a head that’s the size of a giant inflated balloon. One of my eyes is sealed shut because it is too painful to open. So I hobble into a taxi and head downtown to the DOCTOR’S office on Newbury Street.
After being ushered from the waiting room to an examining room, (it’s not great to show hopeful new patients what awaits them on the other side before the results) I am informed that the DOCTOR is running late. After 30 minutes of sitting uncomfortably in the chair and feeling more than a wee bit self-conscious — in walks the DOCTOR — who I swear thinks he is a movie star. And by the way the nurses tip toe around him, I can see why. So, after squeezing the fleshy part of my upper arm in a way to show his moral support for what I’m going through, he says that he needs to look at my eye. So out come the eye drops and — after expressing my slight concern about having eye drops in my searing wound/infection of an eye — he gets annoyed piping in “honey, we’ve got to do this or we won’t know the extent of the damage.” He proceeds to put numbing drops in my eye and then something that will highlight the extent of the damage by making the cuts in the eye colored. Flippin’ wonderful. I breathe deeply as he informs me that I do indeed have a scratched cornea courtesy of DOCTOR douche bag. Now during this whole procedure he seems really sympathetic — until I seeing him look at his watch. Oh — I’m off to India now, nurse X will take care of you. Byeeee!
Great. I’m a sucker for this shmoozer’s semi-charms. He tells me that my eye should be better within a day and not to worry and he’s very sorry that this happened. Well, apologies do go a long way so at least he admits that he f’d up. But still my eye feels like it’s on fire and it’s because of his impatience to put that metal disk in my eye properly.