Put A Washcloth On It.

As kids we were all pretty uncoordinated and clumsy. My brothers, my sisters and I were constantly falling down or running into something or accidentally dropping each other down a flight of stairs (Sorry Craigen). But it was always safe to get hurt in our house cause dad was a doctor. So you knew whatever happened, he would be able to fix you better than al the other dads. Until you remembered that dad was an EYE doctor and he didn't know any more than any of the other dads about "why is it making that noise" or "why won't it stop bleeding" or "I don't know what that thing rammed in my leg is...it just got there". BUT...when we actually had eye questions we really felt he was the man to go to. Which seems logical. And yet, everytime I would knock gently on the door to dads office and say "Daddy...there's a big red bump on my eyeball" or "My eye won't open" or "Tate taped my eyes shut" there was only ever one answer.

"Put a washcloth on it."

Between my brother and I this became a long standing joke. I remember Tate getting his wisdom teeth pulled or his tonsils out and complaining about the pain and I would whisper "Put a washcloth on it." I mean, i couldn't believe that my dad was making enough money to put five children through college by telling his patients to "Put a washcloth on it" all day, but apparantly he was. Not really though, my dad performed complicated and delicate surgeries on people's eyeballs which always FREAKED ME OUT but i still thought it was cool. He often told the story of the old woman who he'd prescribed eyedrops to and she had put them in her cabinet next to the superglue. You figure the rest out.

Well, in the years since my dad passed away I have had pink eye and that eyes-wide-shut thing that came on a couple months ago, plus I convinced myself that I was going blind so i made an eye appointment and went to an opthamologist today. There were definetely parts that were a little sad, I remembered a lot of the eye stuff from when i was little and I did get a little chocked up when they asked me who my former opthamologist was. But then the nurse leaned me back and flooded my eyeballs with some yellow horror that stung like acid burning away my retinas. I'm honestly always very well behaved at the doctors office, I might squirm a little but i never fuss. Even during biopsies and shots and blood work and CT scans i have held my tongue while screaming on the inside. But if you will please reference the Pink Eye blogs of 06 you will remember how I feel about eye drops. I sat straight up and scowled at her and said, "That was TERRIBLE!" she chuckled even though it wasn't funny at all.

Then the nurse said "I'm sorry, I seem to have painted your eyes." Which I didn't know what that meant but do you ever tear up when people say things that you think are really beautiful? I've been saying that all day in my head and have found a million ways to use the expression, "I'm sorry, I seem to have painted your eyes". but then I remembered that she was a nurse and this was a doctors office were reality dominates and I became concerned. She handed me a tissue and when I wiped my eyes bright yellow liquid was everywhere.

"Now, your vision will be blurred for a while and your pupils will be dilated for about an hour, then everything will be back to normal." She failed to mention I would be blind as a bat. The doctor talked to me and diagnosed me with a serious case of hypocondria. He told me I have perfect vision but dry eyes and I should use over the counter eyedrops. Then...and perhaps this was all I was waiting for...he said, "If you don't want to spend the money on drops, just put a washcloth on it."