Big girl panties are getting a little tight.

Being an adult is exhausting. I am so tired, yet I can hardly sleep. I think thats a sign of aging too. I think back to growing up and Ive been pretty fortunate to have a wonderful family. Ive always had plenty of friends to help me out along the way.

That being said, I've been on my own for about 10 years. I left for college and only came home last year and now Im on my own again. I put on my big girl pants a long time ago but I never really realized how hard it is to be an adult on your own.

I was stressed out beyond belief trying to move here, went to the DMV about 20 times pulling my hair out every step. Yesterday I drove back to RI from NJ in the midst of a blizzard. The weather channel kept showing pictures of the storm and giving timelines. They said it wouldn't snow in the northeast until the afternoon. Little did I know it had started in the morning. Four and a half hours of near tears and white knuckled death grip to my steering wheel, I made it home. I was pissed the entire way. It was ridiculous that I went out in that kind of weather. I was afraid I was going to die most of the trip. And all for what? to get back in time for work?

I went in today and stayed until 645 and only saw 10 patients. But honestly? Was it really that imperative to get your glasses today? There are eye emergencies like retinal detachments, impailments, bleach in the eye... but how often does that happen? I drove home in the freezing cold, after a bullshit day, for pretty much no reason. I dont even make that much money.

As I went over the Newport bridge hoping not to blow over into the ocean, and thinking I am so exhausted being an adult. Its not the adult part though that is hard. Its the being an adult alone. Its not that I want a boyfriend so I have someone to spend time with. Its just nice to have someone to like and or eventually love. That emotion can lay stagnant for a while and it festers and rots. I have no one to think about during the day. And more importantly I have no one to bitch to about being an adult. Ive got no one to commiserate with. I have no one to tell me how their day was.

Its just hard. Going through the adult motions without anyone to talk to.

Temple Grandin

Its never been a controversy about whether or not I am able to make people feel. Although many would argue that after knowing me they may know anger, hurt or shame. More seriously, they know honesty. I dont really have the ability to keep my feelings to myself. I know for those whom I might not like, most might find this difficult. But, Id like to think for those whom I really do adore, they know their adoration.
I just finished watching Temple Grandin. A movie staring Claire Danes about the life of a high functioning autistic woman who changed the face of cattle care in the 70s. Autism is a spectrum pathology. I hate to call it a disease, as that has such a poor connotation. Perhaps she was Asbergers which is considered one of the highest functioning. Although lacking in social graces, one functions well especially in high concrete areas such as math, engineering and sciences. When I was younger I worked at a gymnastics gym (my first on the books job) and taught a special needs class with a couple friends. The students were fun and rambunctious. More importantly they required controlled stimulation. One student who was a very adorable and gregarious young boy could not sit still. But, if one of my older colleagues brought in her calculus book, he could solve any problem. If you asked his age he could calculate to the second and on the spot. It was strange to see such a large dicotomy between the ability to live in a "normal" life and yet have so many special talents.
Even before this job, as a 6th grader, I was given the opportunity to work with our Pre-K. I had a student who was an adorable young girl. She wore a helment, but more importantly a big smile. She was fun to play with before school, but on one bad day she bit me and ran through the school and was removed from extra curricular activities. Then I was given a little boy. He was young and he was sweet. You could tell the flourescent lights bothered him. And although he was nearing 4 1/5 he had no speech. He could do puzzles tan cardboard backside up. He never made eye contact, but he could paint the most beautiful pictures. He took a lot of time and care and with time we worked up a report. When I graduated sixth grade I was awarded a plague. On it read " For teaching D___ how to love". I still think of that plaque all the time. I think in all of us there is a little bit of "un-normalcy" I think I can reach people that might not want to be touched. I think I have the ability to get in just enough.
From another movie (very far from the orignal point) I quote " I am not very good at anything. But I am good at getting men to want me. Not date me or marry me, but want me. Im good at that.... and cheering - I was good at cheering" (Sunshine Cleaning) In my own personal life I think Im good at talking people off the edge. I think Im one of those good people to talk to when things in their own life arent so great. But in the end they always go back to their own lives... to their own girlfriends. Maybe I crave a little bit of normalcy myself. I think I have a lot to learn of love, if not for my own teaching.

the rolling stone that gathers no moss

My mother is an elementary school teacher. She was a great mother, but firm in discipline. I imagine she is the same in the classroom. She generally gushes about the kids she has in class. But over the years, she has used on occasion a key phrase that I love to say " DUMB AS ROCKS" I mentioned this phrase once to my residency director and she fell in love with it. Unfortunatley, when you are in the business of seeing lots of different people each day, you come across a lot that fall into this category. I am not saying most people lack intelligence. I just think people let things slide sometimes. My sister is one of the smartest people I have ever met... but every now and then she says something that makes her appear to have an IQ far below 70. It happens to all of us...
The day started out fairly steady, but by 10am I was on a pretty fast pace. I was seeing a patient every 15 minutes, which is fine, but its a lot of people to see at once. This isnt a problem when the exams are routine. For the most part they were that day. Only a few real oc disease cases which I LOVE. Side note - medicine is described as an art not a science. This is completely true. A lot of people complain about doctors visits and tests - but they are usually necessary if not to figure out what is going wrong, save to rule out what isnt. I like to think being a doctor is like constantly playing the game of clue. You have to ask a lot of questions, go through a lot of scenarios in your head, run a gamet of tests, then roll the dice and hope to get Miss Scarlet in the conservatory with the rope.
Back to my point... people are dumb... So one thing that really really bugs me is when people come in saying they cant see.
I know what your thinking. Let me get this straight. I mean when they come in and say (in some form or the other) " I cant see well without my glasses on" or " I could see without glasses before I came in to see you". Really? Well, if I look at the records you came in seeing 20/60... if youve read previous posts you know this isnt the best. You need 20/40 alone in the better seeing eye to have a drivers license (dont worry, if you are only 20/200 in the better seeing eye in the state of Oregon - your hunting license is free!)I checked your vision. Stuck you behind a funny looking pair of giant glasses called a phoropter. I changed lenses asking you which was better about a million times. I hated my life every second. But guess what, I got your 20/20 baby. So now you cant see without your glasses? Well guess what - you didnt know what seeing really was until I gave you them. So, Im sorry. I know you dont see quite as well without your glasses anymore. Im sorry I took away your ability to get run over by a bus without knowing what hit you. Here are your glasses, now get out of my chair.
As for the guy with asymetric diabetic retinopathy - Im going to send you out for a carotid duplex and hopefully reduce your chance of a stroke by 50% because yes, as an eye doc- Im that good...Same for you lady with a central retinal vein occlusion... and you who has had recurrent iritis - Im glad you can finally be treated for the sarcoidosis your primary care doctor failed to diagnose... and you young girl, recently gained weight with swollen optic nerves - get the MRI and spinal tap because your brain is swelling despite your PCP diagnosing you with migraines....
So, we arent all perfect... least not me.. but think before you speak or else you are faited to be dumb as rocks.


and a little ps: If you dont like what I have to say - please stop reading... no really, Id rather you didn't anyway.

pigs in heaven

So, I pulled back my eyelet curtains to peek outside. Rather than seeing the normal winter brewing storm clouds, I was hoping to see squeeling little pigs flying by with perfect white feather wings. I never thought the day would come, but I have recently learned that a friend of mine has proposed to his girlfriend. Mind you, I thought he would be the next George Clooney, although instead of being gay, he would really just be an eternal bachelor. I am sure he would disagree, though his reputation in optometry school was more of a ladies man, than one to settle down. We graduated, he went off to residency, and met the love of his life. I couldn't be happier. Partially because I know he is truly happy, and also that if something like this can happen - anything can! There is hope for me yet! (Jason- if you still read this, know I will not have the same reaction for you - stay a bachelor please)

I left my window and caught a glimpse of my refrigerator door. It currently has two birth announcements and a 'save the date'. I am feeling awfully old, and behind the times... but there is hope!

CONGRATS Jake!!!

too single to deck the halls...

Last Friday I drove up to Boston to try on bridesmaid dresses. Although I am thoroughly excited about my friends wedding, I am not entirely thrilled to don a silk shantung gown that I need to lose 20 lbs to look good in. I walked around Boston in the freezing cold missing my life there. I love living in a city, walking everywhere. I would even take the 10pm walks to Shaws downtown to buy groceries and beer for dinner with my roomie. He always made me carry all the bags too. Well, we havent had snow but I returned to Newport with the holidays on my brain.
I went out that night with a handful of my fellow students from NECO - it was fun, but they left in the morning and my social life in my small town has ended for the winter. I woke up the next morning went to work then headed to micheals on my way home. I spent the entire evening stamping and drawing with glitter pens... cutting trees and glueing paper to make my christmas cards. They are still pathetic compared to the ones I made last year - but it was an honest attempt on my own. The next day I awoke to make a baby blanket for a collegue, unwrapped the bottles I ordered, and made the simple syrup for the last step of my limoncello. I blended dried milk, ice tea mix, creamer, cinnaman and other spices for a chai mix to give the girls at work... and finished some much needed online shopping for christmas.
I stopped and looked around my apartment. Aside from a large star shaped mirror, thats always there, there was no semblence of holiday decor here. I dug into my storage closet and got out a couple candles in pine and holiday scents. I even bought a poinsettia to keep my cactus company... but its still not much.
I think in my heart its not really christmas without a tree. My whole childhood we would pack up our minivan and head 2 hrs out west to a large farm and cut down a tree... drink hot cocoa and then head home to put it up. One year when I was around 4 I was home with my Dad and he was sawing off the end of the tree to fit in the stand. He went straight through his foot with the saw. My mom came home to me white as a ghost in my pajamas with a washrag cleaning up his footsteps... and last year when I was home with my parents we drove up to Warwick to Elmer Platz's farm (per my aunts insistence)... Needless to say its not a farm. Its a persons house who happens to have trees in his backyard. The whole thing was completely awkward, but we cut down the best tree we could and took it home anyway...
I want a tree, but having a tree just for myself sounds downright silly. let alone cutting it down myself seems impossible. The mini prob couldnt hold one for the trip home. People keep saying to buy one of those mini ones at the supermarket, but that seems like a mockery.
I guess the point of this blog is like the christmas tree, the holidays in general are a painful reminder how alone I am. My sister and her husband will be in Atlanta for the holidays. Ill drive home after work, and luckily have that Saturday off... but my parents leave for Cancun that Sunday anyway... its just not the same. Theres no anticipation of Santa or presents. I asked for an iron this year. I dont NEED anything, and really the iron is a fancy one and only a want - I have a perfectly good iron already, its just not as high tech as the one I asked for. Sigh.
I will continue to sing carols to myself at home. I might even try to con a friend to going ice skating with me downtown... but Im feeling awfully morbid this christmas... lets not even get started on New Years! haha

a hopeful monster

One of the most frustrating issues in any doctors practice is compliance. We all brush our teeth extra well, floss twice and use mouthwash days leading up to a dental exam. I will even be sure to lose a few pounds before my weigh in at the ob/gyn. But when a doctor prescribes a medication for my health and well-being; I take it. I am most frustrated with my glaucoma patients. Its a disease that can end in devastating blindness. Its a serious ocular disease. Yet, a ridiculously slow progressing one. And more importantly, one that's usually more than easily treated with only a regimine of drops. Remember when I had you make fists and try to look through the holes in your curled fingers? That's the bad outcome. Now couldn't you manage to put in an eyedrop to prevent it?
Some of these drops are contraindicated due to other disease like asthma and COPD or chronic inflammation like iritis. Sometimes its a juggle as to what to prescribe. So when a patient comes in on max meds despite his asthma, I get really annoyed when his eye pressure hasn't budged. This guy is a complete flake and on first examination tried to explain that he smoked more than enough marijuana to not have glaucoma. Sorry sir, even if you smoked 24/7 you would barely lower IOP by 1 points. So are his drops not working or is he simply not taking them? I'm with HOUSE in believing more than not, patients lie. So after explaining for the 10th time how important his drops are, he left and fingers crossed he takes them as directed!

I'm not sure how this segways, but I watched a movie last night and in it one kid brings up the 'hopeful monster' theory. A hypothesis by Richard Goldschmidt about large malformations in genetics leading to large shifts in evolution. A macro to darwins microevolution. An instataneous speciation, saltatation, or systemic mutation that proves beneficial and is therfore passed on in theory creating a new creature. Whether or not this is a plausable theory is debatable. But I really like its title - a hopeful monster. It makes me think that maybe for all my flaws (and there are a lot) I can be hopeful that they keep me going in this crazy world.
Ill try to floss every day instead of every other. I will take my meds on time and finally make the appt for a full physical that is long overdue. But more importantly, I'm going to be a hopeful monster - because it can only get better from now on.

RIP Cat

Mark this day as a momentous occasion! I was kind and just towards a feline! On my way home after a long day I get over the bridge - almost home!- and just as I round America's Cup Way a car stops short in front of me and puts on their hazards. I look down at the street and put my hazards on too. I get out of my car and look at the girl in front of me and say what do we do? A cat was apparently hit by a car in front of her and kept going. It was in the middle of the road and still moving. She called the police and we waited for 30 minutes for them to arrive. Within the first 2 minutes the cat stopped breathing. Luckily some guy stopped and grabbed the cat and brought it to the owners house. He was a neighbor and knew whose cat it was. I actually felt kinda bad. Just because I hate cats doesnt mean I want them all to die; and tragically at that!

So maybe Im a little more of a grown up.... haha just kidding - but RIP random cat... Im sure someone loved you (although I dont quite understand why)

27 and going on 12

So the weeks have passed and it’s been pretty fun. Work is either more hectic than the inside of a circus tent or so slow I’m able to read a novel in only a couple days. I’ve been trying to boost my social life by going out to dinner and for drinks, but mostly I’ve spent quite a bit of time at the 25 yr olds house. Its been all in good fun, nothing serious. It’s not that he isn’t someone I would be interested in, but for all his good qualities there is the constant reminder he is 25. I am not saying age matters, but for every intelligent conversation, well cooked meal, there is a comment that reminds me, you are just twenty five.
I’ve led a pretty privileged life and never been found wanting. Or if I was, I worked my ass off to get it anyway. I am lucky, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t had my fair share of heartache. By the time I graduated optometry school I had already been to more funerals than my grandmother. My senior year of high school was the start when I lost a good friends sister. I remember the moment I realized how mortal we all are. Instead of spending senior year drinking tequila (although there was a fair share of that in previous years) and making poor decisions, I knew they now had consequences. But I still hadn’t grown up.
I dated in college. Broke up. Had a roommate steal a boy then proceed to go SWF and get a perm and start dressing like me. All rough, but not world shaking. Optometry school I met and fell madly in love with a boy that was already spoken for. I’ve mentioned him before as the roommate of my original crush. I spent almost every waking minute with him. Partially because he was really smart and I thought studying with him would help my grades (unfortunately for me, the only semester of straight A’s came just after we had called it quits) We practiced eyeball skills in preclinic and rewarded ourselves with a couple beers and a game of darts every Monday. To tell you the truth; I’m not sure when he ever dated his girlfriend. This is the worst – even on Valentine’s Day he came to my place and not hers. I felt guilty the entire time, but my adoration for him outweighed most of it. Like any stupid girl, I thought I could win. Needless to say, a year later and about 7 martinis, I lost it and ended it in order to save myself. I spent that next week with my bag of chips and TV remote. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but at the end of that week everything changed.
I had my birthday, went off on rotations, had a fling, then met the boy that would more recently bruise my ego (not quite break my heart). But more importantly, I grew up.
So having a fling with this 25 year old, though fun, was light and not supposed to mean a thing. No, don’t worry, I am not going to say I fell for him. I really don’t think I could if I tried. He is so 25 he might be 12 sometimes. But this weekend we all went out and who joined us, but another optometry girl. One in his class. One that is apparently with him. I had no idea. I went from being 27 and loving my slightly messy life, to being that other girl again.
The book I read at work this week was The Elegance of the Hedgehog – and most definitely made it to my top five. And to quote ‘ Well, that hurt, yes, it hurt. I may know the world is an ugly place, I still don’t want to see it’. Im not twenty-five anymore. Im a grown-up. That hurt doesn’t change though, just because Im old enough to have known better.

Orange you glad I didnt say "WTF are you doing eating cotton?!"

I believe I am getting sick, as my nose seems to be stuck on leak... Like a faucet not quite turned far enough to the off position. My back aches a bit and my cheeks are flushed, just a bit.
I decided to pummel my body with superfoods to boost my immune system - help me, help myself! After cups of tea with local honey, some pumpkin soup, and spinach salad, I decided to head to the store for some oranges. My body was craving vitamin C. I got out of my car and walked up to the door and a very large gentleman of questionable character stepped in front of me. He had a hat on and I noticed part of a stop and shop apron coming out of his bag. As we got closer to the door his right hand reached out of his pocket, an empty fifth of smirnoff vodka in hand, and thre it out. This man had clearly been drinking before work and unfortunately as the bottle hit the edge of the trash can he turned and saw me watching him. I walked in to the store and headed for the oranges, much to my demise he stood right in front of the ones I wanted. He struck up a conversation with a fellow employee and giggled ( most likely about the fact that he would be bagging groceries completely hammered) I stepped forward and he saw me, gave me a look and I walked away. I grabbed a plastic bag and filled it with four of the lame oranges closer to me and ran to the checkout line hoping not to be beaten.
Today, after a drive in the snow on my way to work, I settled in and saw a few patients- most of which were snarky, but I refrained from hitting. Around 11 I got a little hungry and sat down at my desk to peel the orange I had brought. I could barely get my fingernails in and through the skin to rip a piece off. It was like poorly glued wallpaper that you peel and comes off in minuature strips... Needless to say it took 20 min to peel this orange and another ten to get it to open into slices... I bit into it and although a mild sweetness, it was mostly bitter... Second bite there were seeds...
And at this point I was brewing. That damn alcoholic has ruined my life...
I get paged and walk into the room. I barely opened the door to see a rather portly girl of roughly 15 leaning down into the box of q-tips, grabbing a handlful and putting them in her mouth. I introduce myself and take a breath to compose my thoughts. She sits down, qtip sticking out the corner like a a cowboy with a toothpick. I put the phoropter in front of her face - to check her Rx and to give myself a moment to laugh silently but with facial expressions. The rest of her exam went fine. I decided not to embarrass her and bring up the qtip stealing-eating situation. Perhaps she has pica and felt the subconscious need for more fiber. Anyways, I was amused and it broke the orange funk. I'm going to stop at trader joes on the way home and pick up some organic oranges, and ill be damned if I run into someone doing lines of coke in the bread aisle or shots amongst the deli meat!

Men, who needs 'm?

In the last few months I have dwelled on the fact that I do not have a man that loves me. It is nice to feel wanted sometimes. More recently I have been spending nights out with the new friends Ive made here in RI. I have stuffed my face with Indian food and drank one too many margaritas. Ive been having a lot of fun. I didnt even mention before, that night out with friends got me maybe a lil too close to a former student/ much younger gentleman. But thats what life is for, right? Having a bit of fun?

Ive been piecing together the little things. Got the apartment, furnished it... bought a bike... got my drivers license changed over. For the last three months Ive been watching TV on a 19 incher that I borrow from my sister. Its been ok. However, as an optometrist with an already high prescription. So, Ive been trying to get away with wearing old specs and not being refracted (Im a great doc!) I was really having trouble reading the guide... so instead of getting new specs, I bought a TV!

I spent a lot of time researching and found the TV I wanted and one I could afford. When I was home for the weekend I was able to go shopping and finally picked it up. I spent a few hours in traffic but sang most of the way back home. Most of this time I kept thinking, how am I going to get this TV in my house. Forty inches is considerably bigger than my 19". Not only did I think it would be difficult to bring the TV from my car to my apartment, but electronics in general scare me!

Anyways, I pulled up... ran inside to pee (of course) and then attempted to unload. Flat screens arent that heavy, so moving it was just awkward. A neighbor came out to offer assistence. He wasnt particularly good looking, so I passed... I dragged it in and went to work. Only about 20 minutes later it was put together, on my table... I connected it to both digital cable and dvd player and both worked! I was ecstatic!

I clearly think having a guy would be nice. My TV and my cactus arent good for hugs... but those who know me, know my view on hugs... Anyways, pretty stoked Im cable of doing things on my own. Score one for the single girl

Bottoms Up!

In the fourth year of school we move around the country learning from different types of practices and different doctors. I loved my rotations in Newport and that’s partially why I ended up moving back. My rotation in Boston was great and although I didn’t see much clinically, my Spanish improved and I had the best roommate ever. Despite living in squalor for 3 months, there was lots of beer and football. By far and away the rotation I had in Portland, OR was my hardest, but I learned the most. I worked my hiney off for 3 months- 12 hours a day without lunch. I saw so much disease and had some of the craziest patients (most of my stories are from those three months!) My hardest and smartest preceptors were there too. I spent most of the time in fear and hoping to impress them. That was actually my second rotation and by the end, I knew I would make it in this crazy eyeball world. Why? I could give the lecture…
Erectile Dysfunction is a real disease. I feel bad for those who have it. Although, Viagra is not the solution. One of the only laws of physics that anyone can remember is – what goes up must come down… well when blood goes down and not up in the first place there is a problem. When the eye isn’t fed nutrients and oxygen, it dies. Viagra is known to cause color vision changes. Ok no big deal. But what happens on a rare occasion is that half the retina goes bye bye and you get an altitudinal defect. Meaning one eye cant see anything from midline down. Fingers crossed that doesn’t mean the macula your central fine detail/color vision. Anyways, this doesn’t happen to everyone. But men with a ‘disc at risk’ ( an optic nerve that’s crowded around its blood vessels) are highly susceptible. Anyways, its not exactly the easiest thing to ask or bring up. Especially when you are a young girl at a veterans hospital. It took me a long time and most of the time I would check out with a doc and quickly at the end of my briefing the disc at risk and Viagra med list… Dr C would give the lecture and I would stand quietly in the corner. Then, one day, I did it on my own. I took a deep breath and explained the risks of that drug and recommended the patient discontinue use. I made it!
In life there are awkward lectures/encounters too. After a few drinks already in my system, I bar crawl to one of my fav local places. I had already run into the ex’s roommate and all was fine. I was with friends from school and walk in, take out my ID and who is the bouncer? A fling from my first rotation in Newport. It wasn’t anything serious, but was certainly a lot of fun. However, I believe we had different opinions on the outcome of the 3 months I was spending there. It didn’t end well and I was completely caught off guard seeing him again. I gave him a hug and chatted a bit and headed straight to the bar for a tequila shot. Im a good problem solver.
I have no problem giving the lecture now. Its not easy, its embarrassing, but in the end you are helping a patient. You are preventing vision loss and frankly that is basically my job description. Unfortunately, this is not the only hard thing to ask patients. Today I had two patients with conjunctivitis. You all know this as ‘pink eye’. Some eyes are pink, some red… some watery, some sticky. The Conj is almost always viral and like the common cold not curable with antibiotics. Most docs use prophylactic antibiotics and that’s why we have resistence to them now. The Conj can be allergic and in the spring I am dolling out zaditor, alaway, and patanol left and right. However, sometimes it is actually bacterial. These eyes today were both gross. Eyelid swollen shut, gooey yellow discharge on the lashes and a palpabal preauricular node. They were so gross I had to question. Have you been sexually active lately? Oh yes, you can get STDs in the eye. Most commonly is herpes but we will save that for another day. Today I was questioning Chlamydia and Gonnorhea. Imagine how one can get an STD in the eye. Yup. Most people are quite offended by this question. At the VA at least the old men seemed super proud to be on Viagra. Well, neither of my patients said yes, but Im bringing them back in a day to make sure the antibiotics are working. Worse comes to worse its nothing an oral Ab can’t cure – thank goodness for penicillin and azithromycin!
So, can I give the lecture – aka have ‘the talk’ in real life? Im not sure... I really like that bar and trivia night on Tuesday is something I don’t really want to have to miss. I am going to work on it. Might ask a bit of help from a friend, Jose Cuervo… I’ll keep you posted…

La vie est corte, mas et es large

After reading my past few posts I’ve noticed I had become a bit cynical. Worst yet, very down on myself. I think it’s easy to spend time focusing on your faults and all that isn’t in your life. I recently went out with (fingers crossed) soon to be very good friends. After a few drinks and a great chat I realized I am young. Sometimes I forget that being a doctor is actually something to be pretty proud of. I work hard and it isn’t easy.

Yesterday I had a patient, a young 20-something, in for a routine exam. She lost her glasses a few months ago and as a moderate myope (pretty nearsighted) she really needed a new pair. All new patients get a full exam meaning including dilation. I love my job because not only is it faced paced, but it is full eyecare. It isn’t a corporate sell out job. I dilate as many people as need it. Optos ( a new photographing machine that can take a picture of most of the retina) is not a replacement for dilation. You can see a lot with a photo, but it does not beat a doctors eyes. Anyways, I refract and find her prescription, drop her and send her to pick out some new specs. So 20-something? actually she is my age… picks out her specs and heads back to my chair to check out the back of the eye. Every doctor has their own routine and I usually start with a 90D view of basically the optic nerve and macula. I generally have the patient look around a bit too and then head for the BIO. For the laymens who read – its that really funny hat with a light that makes us look like coal miners. It, along with a lens, condenses light so we get a 3D view of the retina’s periphery. After 90 I was already thinking “F@#$@K”. I take another look around, take off my miners cap and get comfortable in my chair. I ask again if she has ever had a dilated eye exam – no. Does anyone in her family have any eye problems? Any trouble with nighttime vision? I send her for an optos just so I have something to show her to explain. See this? It’s a normal retina. Here is a picture of your retina. Notice the black spiny area in this donut around the midperiphery? We generally refer to these as bony spicules. Now I haven’t done all of the testing needed to confirm this diagnosis, but it appears that you might have an eye disease called Retinitis Pigmentosa. If in fact this is RP, she will steadily lose her peripheral vision and although she may remain 20/20 will have a field of maybe 10 degrees. Take your hands make them into fists and place them over your eyes as you look through your curled fingers – that’s what she could end up with. My stomach turns and I hold in the tears. I cant say this is what she has for sure, but it’s the most likely cause of the way her retina looks. She is my age and by 40-50yrs she will be with a white cane, having trouble navigating. This is not to say her life is over – many people do wonderfully with a little low vision aid and training.

I am in my mid/late twenties and ya know, life isn’t so bad. I may not have a boyfriend or a super busy social life, but I am happy. I am meeting new people and hope to really solidify some friendships Ive already made here. I think of the trip to Cappadocia, Turkey I want to take with my sister… and the dive trip to Honduras with my friend Katie… I think of camping and skiing in NH and surfing right here in RI… I think it was a wake up call to do things while you can. Live life to the fullest. More importantly, be happy for the things you have and not so sullen by what you don’t. The grass can be greener on your own side of the lawn.

I like sunsets, puppies and long walks on the beach....

I have barely started this blog and already am running out of material. In order to create material, I need to meet men. So, reluctantly I joined Match. A friend from Optom school is getting married in 2 weeks to a man she met on match. They really are perfect for each other and that gave me hope. Another friend in the field is also happily dating a guy that she is head over heels for. So, why not? I have nothing to lose, since my dignity went out the door years ago.
I wrote a simple bio, added a few of my better pics…. And submit! Its been two weeks and so far I have only gotten 10 emails and a handful of winks. I would love to not stereotype or group the men who are interested in me into a category… but it is safe to say this is the standard: Mid thirtys, balding, income of 25-50 grand, body type: a little more to love…. I’m not superficial… well, Im somewhat open just a little judgy… My last few blogs have been about how clearly I was discarded by the last boy because I am not pretty or thin enough. I get it. I know where I stand. But really? This is all I can get?
I am growing increasingly discouraged… 200+ and bald? It would be one thing if this was pure muscle and for aerodynamics. Haha no, I couldn’t handle a pro-athlete. But that would be fun. Wouldn’t it be great if political correctness and even just plain old manners could be thrown out the window. My profile would most likely read:
Just moved into town. I am dying of boredom and have started quilting in my free time and live with the constant fear of cats and dying alone. My biological clock isn’t ticking, but I would prefer to have children before the likelihood of birth defects exceeds 50% aka before I am 35… I really do enjoy anything outdoors. I like to exercise and went for a 10 mile walk just to take up time. I scuba dive, horseback ride, and ski. I really like to travel. Which means, I would appreciate it if you had the means to do these sort of things. I spent the last 9 years working my ass off and now I make a pretty decent living. So, Id be happy if you did too. I’m horribly self-conscious and have weight issues… but I’m also superficial enough to ask no overly fatty’s please. You don’t have to be a model, but I would appreciate not being embarrassed to introduce you to my friends.
Haha I just read this and it makes me sound horrible. Real me is so judgemental! I had a patient the other day. I walked into the room and right off the bat got a very odd look. He turned to me and said, ‘ you are not what I expected to walk through the door’ From the tone, I don’t think this was a compliment. And to be honest, its true. I think Im a pretty fun person to hang out with (well, Im all I have to hang out with at the moment). My face doesn’t break any mirrors… but lets face it, beggars cant be chosers. Maybe I’ll just have to reply back to one of these emails someday soon…

Jane Russell - Ain't There Anyone Here For Love?

As I walked the 9 miles of ocean drive today I thought about the time when the weather will turn and I will definitely need to join a gym... I like doing things, but mostly outdoors... however my love life might depend on appearing to be athletic.... this is pretty much what I think of gyms :) enjoy!

Koonu "When life gives you lemons, just say 'Fuck the lemons,' and bail"

So… I was watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall and thinking how I moved to a beach town and keep running into the last person to bruise my heart a bit. No, its not Hawaii unfortunately. No one seems to be as nice or free to give me liquor. But that shouldn’t stop me.
I remember when I first saw this movie in the theaters. I went with a friend at the time that happened to be a guy. I had a crush on him in Optom school, but ended up spending my third year sleeping with his roommate instead. The roomate quickly turned into a crush and then turned again into my first and most beneficial heartbreak. I don’t look back upon that year with any animosity anymore. It is what it is. I needed that heartache. I had dated guys before and things didn’t work out. I usually just walked away and didn’t really feel anything. This was the potato chip, crying couch boy. We all need that I guess to know we do have the capability to love. Anyways, after all was said and done I used to hang out with Jake a bunch as a friend. We went to the movies a lot and he tried to get in my pantalones a bunch of times, but I didn’t feel that way. So we went to this movie and of course I loved it. Who doesn’t love Jason Segall?
A few months later, while studying for finals Jake showed up with a CD. It had a bunch of letters on it and was a home-made burned CD. I put it in the computer at school and Cake’s Love You Madly started playing. I was shocked. I felt horrible and wonderful and so confused. Was this a confession? Who gives CDs in the first place? I listened on… and then I realized haaha This was the soundtrack from Forgetting Sarah Marshall and not a boys way to tell me he liked me. I was a bit sad and also happy. I giggled a bit about this one….
I doubt that some hot receptionist or town information guide (I don’t know what the equivalent is) will want to hang out with me. I don’t think my neighbors will bring me extra rum nips with pineapple juice… and unfortunately Ive already jumped off a 15 foot cliff right here in Newport with the last boy… So, again, not sure where to go… But Im hoping for the best. This is the bright side….

sometimes its hard to breath, even above water...

Scuba diving, like optometry, is yet another random/quirky love of mine. When my sister went into her junior year of HS she decided to ditch the idea of becoming a "burger king giver outer" and aspired to attend college to become a nautical archeologist. My father only saw this as a minor step up. Being the practical man that he is, he insisted she take scuba diving lessons to first make sure she could handle this possible future job. He decided to join her and they spent the next two years taking trips and leaving my mother and I at home. Naturally as my sister was about to graduate and move far away (NH - the university has the best nautical archeology program in the states), my father realized he needed a new buddy (you always dive with a "buddy" as a safety precaution). He basically forced me into lessons, which I was not happy about. Although, I took them with a good friend and the best part about diving is its a good thing to pee your pants. In this case its a wetsuit, and in the chilly water, your own urine is quite warm! Lauren had me giggling in my booties every week so I blame her for my lack of hypothermia.

Anyways, diving requires a lot of learning. You can spend hours, if not days, reading about how you can die underwater and what NOT to do to get yourself into that predicament. But in the end, they overall process is quite easy... You put a hose in your mouth filled with air, jump in, and as Nemo's friends would say 'swim down!'. There is a ton of stuff to see down there most times. I prefer the warmer weather of the florida keys or some island in the carribean... Ive been to: the bahamas, turks and caicos, cayman islands, puerto rico, dom rep... I cant rememeber everywhere, but mostly fun trips.

This past year, I managed to escape residency for three trips to the keys. Its so easy to get to and there is enough to see to keep me occupied. The first two trips were with a boy I thought I was dating. After all, who in their right mind goes away on a trip with a person of the opposite sex, just as friends. The trip was tons of fun and only inspired me to get my advanced certification. This flaky guy was off and on and although I really liked him, I tried to just go MIA during the holidays so he would get the hint this was clearly not working. Needless to say we booked another trip in February. After a lot of talk, I knew he didnt want to be in a relationship, but I went anyway. This was partially in a last ditch effort to satiate my heart (big mistake) but more importantly to take time off of the hell of residency. I was crying approximatly three days a week after work at this point. I was ready for it to all be over, but I still had four months to get through. Why not get out of the snow and into a bikini?! Of course we embarked on this adventure in February... the weekend of the 13th and 14th. Not only was this Valentines, but his birthday. I was nice, I got him a little something (for being old only). The diving was horrible. My toes and lips were blue and I was shaking. I only stayed under the water long enough because above water was colder. The trip was a bit of a bust but a trip to Shell World and a Lobster/candlelight dinner wasnt too bad. Are you as confused as I am by now? Valentines morning, I woke up early and ran out to get coffee and muffins and a candle to make it like a mini bday cake... I go back to the hotel to find a box of chocolates and a tiny bear dressed in scuba gear. I have never recieved anything on valentines day, let alone from someone I liked who I thought did not feel the same way. If any of you have watched Sex and the City you know my exact feeling if you can picture Miranda seeing the "I love you" cookie cake. Clearly I couldnt shove a box of choclates into my mouth without him seeing, but I thanked him and felt uneasy the rest of the day.

In the end, many months later on a trip up to Newport (where he lives, about 2 blocks away from me right now - fantastic!) to interview for my now job... I drank a pitcher of margeritas and told him how I really felt about the whole situation. It obviously did not go well and the next day will go down in history for the worst hangover anyone has ever had, despite it not including tigers, strippers, or mike tyson. I moved up two months later and the texts and emails started and I kindly asked for them to stop. He left it with "I wish we were only every just friends" Which clearly means you are fun to hang out with, but I find you unattractive.

Yesterday I get a text, after about a month, of a picture of his new regulator (air supplier mouthpiece thingy) Ironic, since I was supposed to be diving that day and the weather threw too much surge to go out. I woke up this morning headed to the dive shop and picked up some tanks. As I was turning out of the driveway there he comes prancing with a box of dunkin donuts in his right hand and a girl in the left.She might have been an extra on the set of Gossip girl by her looks and apparent age, but Im not going to judge. Im sure she is a perfectly nice girl that actually laughs at his jokes and doesnt question his girlish fear of spiders.

I headed out to Ft. Wetherill, a small cove on the tip of Jamestown. It took approximately 20 minutes to pull 6mm thick neoprine over my not size 2 body. It was there I thought I should come home and blog about this all. I know its not that funny, and Im rambing a lot, but I just wanted to write to get it all out. Diving is like life. You scrape your knuckles and curse the sky trying to wedge your fat rolls into a thick wetsuit. You spend another 20 minutes adding more weights (to get you under the water - like I didnt have enough of my own) and tanks and BCs... you walk ten minutes with 100lbs on your back and wonder why you do this all in the first place. But that is what life is, sometimes you bear the weight weather its in equipment or emotion. But then, you slip into the water, let all the air out of your lungs and sink below. You cant hear a thing, but a dull hum of ocean life. I can scream at the top of my lungs and no one will hear me. Its amazing. I have a framed picture in my living room by an artist Brian Andreas its of an odd looking character and it says "i always like the time before dawn because there is no one around to remind me of who im supposed to be" ... its like that. And, if I could get to 100 feet, the compression of the wetsuit might at least get me to a size 4. But, my hair will always be curly and gangly. I will always just kill the damn spiders myself.

I step out of the water after an hour of swimming around. Peel off that wetsuit and head home. Its been a good day, none-the-less. I spent a year wondering what I could do to be good enough. I dont believe its anything other than plastic surgery can fix. I dont really know where to go from here... other than submerge myself in the ocean to forget all my problems. I know I dont want to spend another year being reminded of what I am not. So fingers crossed for new dive buddies!


That was a morbid ending to a would be humoros blog... so Ill end on this... I had it wrong. Peeling a label off a catus is nothing... compare to knocking that cactus over and trying to replant it! Thank goodness for neoprin scuba gloves!

Is that the truth or are you talking trash? are you MVP like Steve Nash?

Don’t worry, your girls have the “good kind” of eyeturn, I explain to their mother. As I’ve written before, I have a small problem explaining eye problems without an air of rainbows and unicorns. I always try to find that silver lining. After all, they had small angle alternating exotropia. Both eyes turn out slightly but they can switch back and forth, like Steve Nash. Therefore both eyes get used at some point and they won’t develop amblyopia. Amblyopia happens when either an eye turn is permanent or one eye has a strong prescription – that eye isn’t really used, so the brain kinda just shuts it off. So Steve and the twins have two viable eyes and since they are slightly out, technically a better peripheral vision.
Peripheral vision is pretty important. It’s probably the reason for Homo sapiens trumping the Neanderthals… or something like that. It allows us to know what’s going on around us without looking directly at it. Like, so we don’t get eaten by sharks or scorpions.
In relationships, peripheral vision would be pretty handy. More commonly the exact opposite thing happens. We decide we really like someone, start working out more… wear tighter jeans and push up bras….. And the most important accessory? Harness winkers! You know those leather patches, otherwise known as blinders, which horses wear in order for them to focus only on the race path straight ahead. For every time he doesn’t call or changes your plans you keep your head straight, eyes on the prize and make an excuse. I guess it just makes life easier. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, well I’ve let a lot of mistakes happen in the hopes they’d work out anyway… but I think I’ll take that harness off for now … and keep my eyes out for sharks… and canadians

the thorns in our sides....

There are certain things in life that pose, without malice, a certain amount of awkwardness and difficulty. One of these I encountered this morning and it entailed pealing the purchase sticker off a small potted cactus. Why Lowes needed to put such a large and very sticky sticker on said cactus, I am not sure. I believe a smaller UPC code would have been quite handy on the bottom of the pot, where I could have left it indefinitely. Martha Stewart explained to me last month that succulents are the new hot ticket item. Naturally, I went out right away to purchase. Heaven forbid someone walk into my apartment and not see a perfectly quaint Oreocereus trolli. More importantly, it is pretty unlikely that I will kill this “plant” and thus I have a friend to come home to.
Another one of those uncomfortable and almost tiresome life tasks is meeting people. I was more than excited to move to a beach town. I love it here and have more than enough fun riding my bike and jogging at the beach. However, this is the first time I’ve moved to a place where I actually have no friends. It’s not like when you go to college or when I went to optometry school and you are given a set pool of people and you actually get to pick and chose who you want to hang out with. I’m here, alone, living in a 1 bdr apartment. Above me is a 40 yr old woman with cats. She is actually quite nice, however a constant reminder that this is a potential course in life in which I do not want to take. I cannot even begin to explain how much I loathe cats and would much rather peel cactus labels for life than end up old and alone surrounded by felines. So how does one make friends? It’s been suggested numerous times that I go to a bar by myself. I think this is about as good of an idea as investing in a litter box.
I am happy about my move and really love my job; although it poses many difficulties itself. Just the other day I had a elderly woman explain that her eyes were empa~nadas. I couldn’t for the life of me understand how it would be a problem for her eyes to be small warm cheese filled dough pockets. My stomach rumbled and I paged one of the girls in to translate. That tilde sure makes a difference, as she was saying her eyesight was blurry… this did not, however, help the fact that it was noon and clearly I was starving. The next patient came in complaining of lingering images. When she looked at an object and then looked away that object remained superimposed in front of whatever new she was looking at. As she explained this to me, in English – thank g*d, the lovely image of Dr C popped into my own head. He vaguely resembles ‘Doc’ the bushy eyebrowed old man from Fraggle Rock. When he stepped into the classroom that first day of Visual Perception, I was instantly in love. He not only is the kindest, nicest man ever to live, he was also a pretty good teacher and thus I knew I had me a case of palinopsia. That’s about all I knew and as soon as I dropped her (dilation) I went to the nearest computer to google it. Fantastic, Wiki tells me ‘attributed to a number of conditions affecting the brain including, but not limited to, medications], seizure disorders, tumors, occipital lobe or visual pathway lesions], subcortical hemorrhage], and dural arteriovenous malformations. Her eye exam was normal as I expected. Now the hard part: how do you explain to someone who already has extreme anxiety ( a side effect of palinopsia, as most people think they are going crazy), that she may or may not have some serious business going on in her cranium. I am young, but I am fairly professional in the exam room (well, on occasion). Most of my newly diagnosed glaucoma patients believe they just won the lottery as rainbows fly out my ass when I explain they probably only need a drop or two to prevent them from going blind. The difficulty in being a doctor is explaining things that are scary without making a patient crap their pants or leave not really knowing the severity of their condition. This was a sticky situation. Worse yet, trying to convince a person (with which docs in general are against their religion/way of life) that doesn’t have insurance that she needs to be seen by a neurologist and have an MRI/CT scan. I did my best, and fingers are crossed but Im not even sure she will show up for the follow up with me. I clearly can do nothing, but bring people back almost just to ask them if they have done what I have said. When I was at the VA I made about 20 phone calls a week making sure my patients went to retina evals or were taking their meds properly. I got a text from my former boss last week letting me know a patient came back complaining about the drops I ordered for him. Betoptic a beta blocker which I only ordered through the VA since its cheap, but the Rx came from his Glaucoma specialist MD. Apparently this gentleman had been feeding the drops to his cat and now poor fluffy is no longer with us. I generally felt really bad about this (really, hehe ok well maybe), but take zero responsibility for his cats death. I cannot be held accountable for stupidity, I only saved you some money dude. But, in general, compliance is tough.
So I left work with a bit of a knot and not an empanada in my stomach- hoping for the best. I came home to my cactus and the pitter patter of cat paws upstairs. And, against my better judgment, I let a colleague set me up with someone. I haven’t met him, although accidently facebook friended him. He is clearly not into me, yet I’ll keep attempting to make this work because frankly, I don’t need a guy so much as someone to hang out with. My cactus doesn’t answer when I talk to it. I have maybe a chartreuse thumb. I’m not horrible, I have a pretty decent herb garden growing on my porch. However, when I went home last weekend and checked on the pumpkins I planted in the spring, I came across a 2 ft zucchini. Clearly this would’ve been the time to mark a plant with a giant, difficult to remove barcode.

cual es mejor? uno o dos?

When I mention that I am an optometrist most people either don't know what that is, or at least don't know how to react to the answer of what I do for a living. When you are a little kid it is stereotyped that you want to grow up to be a fireman or teacher... My sister at one point wanted to be a Burger King "giver-outer" aka the minimum wage job at a drive through. We are proud she made it a little further. Most kids dont say eye doctor. It was a little random how I got into it, but I honestly love my profession.

After Ive mentioned my job, of the people who know what it is I do, usually tell me they hate "the 1 or 2, which is better" Well, let me tell you... I HATE it more. Refraction is a big part of our profession. It is a part that seperates us from ophthalmology. Note to any who read - do not go to an ophthalmologist for glasses, they are eye surgeons. Everyone knows 20/20 is the end goal. That means you can see something at 20 feet that someone with "normal" vision sees at 20 feet. Lots of things can make this number difficult to attain. The larger the denomenator, the worse the vision. The leading cause of blindness in the world is cataracts. Now everyone and their mother comes into the office petrified to have cataracts. Well sorry folks, if you are over 60, you most likely have them! They are normal and natural aging process. And thanks to Charles Kelman, taking them out is a quick and easy process. Cataract surgery was actually described in the east by Sushruta in the 6th centry BC. But after this long tangent, let me wrap this together. If you are old you have cataracts, if you have cataracts your vision is less than 20/20, and after working a year at a VA I like having an end point of 20/30 and having that be ok.

Which is better? one or two? Cual es mejor? Uno o dos? You hate this portion of the exam? Well, I just asked for you to chose between one of two choices. The answer is one or it is two. The answer is not 'No', it is not 'none', it is not '3'. I cant help you, if you cant help yourself. Well, actually I can. I know what your prescription is, whether I do retinoscopy or cop out and use an autorefractor. Ive got an idea of what you would like to see, but Im being nice and asking you to fine tune it.

I have nothing funny or about boys today - sorry folks!

a little less snark, a lil more crank

At the end of any relationship there are tears. Whether you are sad for the loss, angry for the time spent unhappy, or just plain tired and overwhelmed. I remember my third year of optometry school I broke up with a boy. As many small optometry schools would have it, there were about 60 students in it so it was near impossible to get over it without running into him. Luckily it was during finals and I hit the books hard and the breakup ended in all A's. So, I guess it was for the best. When it first happened I remember the Sunday afternoon I spent cooped up in my apartment. I sat on our couch (haha by couch I mean Futon- remember those poor days?) Anyways, I spent hours sitting in an oversized Tshirt, boxer shorts, and a giant bag of potato chips crying hysterically. I consider that my lowest point and when anything goes bad, I think about that day, give myself a minute (one minute only) to cry and then laugh about how ridiculous I was.
Well, like most break ups, they never break even. Thanks, The Script - you definitely summed it up. I listened to the song, and sang along naturally, on my way to work. The morning was fairly uneventful. After a lunch, I came back, donned my white coat and walked in to see my first patient of the afternoon. A young girl, the acuity girls couldn’t even get a measurement. Her right eye was swollen shut and tears were trickling slowly and she sat uncomfortably in my chair.
I cut the bullshit and threw her straight into the slit lamp. “You are already in pain, Im sure the light bothers you like no other, and you are most likely going to want to punch me in the face after this… but give me a few minutes, let me pry open this eye and see what is going on” After much struggle y mucho lagrimas, a 2.5mm epithelial defect in the inf/central portion of her cornea were discovered. More importantly I finally got out of her that a year prior her daughter, a baby at the time, scratched the front of her eye resulting in the original corneal abrasion.
The tears streamed down her face without a whimper as if there was a faucet back there that wasn’t quite shut tightly. After the first few days after breaking up, it’s just easiest to be sad. You think about all the good times and how they aren’t ever going to happen again. For a brief moment your life might be over. By over, not as sweet and silent as say death… but more horribly than that you picture your life growing old, alone, with pungent aroma of feline urine surrounding your entire home. There will be floral muumuus. In later life, maybe even an oxygen tank and a large brimmed hat.
Once that lovely picture has finally left your mind, there comes the email. ‘How are you? How was the move?’ I debated for a while whether I answer at all. But, my mother above all other things always stressed manners. Despite how rude I would most generally like to be in life, I usually don a fake smile and suck it up. After a round of prophylactic antibiotics, the epithelium healed over, although it would never be the same. I put her on artificial tears during the day and lacrilube at night.
Weeks pass and I run into his old roommate. We had a nice chat and I was generally excited to see him. I had met a lot of people through him. A lot of people Id have liked to have been friends with. Within an hour came the instant messaging. She forgot the ointment that night. The next morning after hours of blissful sleep, her eyes a little dry in the summer heat, that right eyelid opened with the sunlight creeping through her window and in an instant ripped whatever epithelium attempted to cover that now very old abrasion. Tears again.
I preluded this blog to say I know nothing of boys. And I don’t. But one thing I do know is they lay in wait until you’ve forgotten their existence and then they chime in and open up old wounds. My ipod on and Paulson’s playing (old school and jersey pride here) To quote a song since I get all my relationship advice from songs, heaven forbid I listen to Dr Phil… ‘relationships never end they’re just abandoned.’ I know nothing of men and nothing of how to keep them happy but what I do know in life is that sometimes things work and sometimes they don’t. And generally that’s just fine- it goes on. I just wish sometimes you could walk away completely and let that epithelium heal for good. Until then, artificial tears, a few glasses of wine, and hopefully new men might just be the best medicine.

Beer goggles and reading specs

The faint buzzing of my blackberry as it skips across my bedside table is enough to wake me out of an already non-existent sleep. I attempt to go to bed by 10pm every night, but I am up every few hours staring at the ceiling bored to tears. I am exhausted every day, but every night it means nothing. I pick up my phone hit dismiss and note its 6:02. I crawl out of bed and stumble into the bathroom. I don’t know why I bother to condition my hair. It ends up in a ponytail the second I get into clinic. I hop out, dry off, and throw in my contacts which will drive me crazy by noon. I put on a plain pair of pants and different color cardigan then attempt to put on makeup (if I remember). I head to the kitchen to fill my travel mug with coffee and head out the door and into my car and start my hour and a half drive to work. By 7:30 my phone stands still, no light to be found. Apparently no one cares about me this morning. I bury it into my purse and as I walk into clinic I bury my heartache and prepare for another long week.
Now I have gotten a lot of weird stories about how patients lose or break glasses. On more than one occasion someone has informed me their dog ate them. Mr. Angelo takes a seat in my chair. The first patient of the day is always the worst. It’s as though I never went to optometry school and I have absolutely no idea what any of the buttons or gadgets in my room do. I am constantly moving from one place to another picking up and putting down objects I don’t need. The key is to make every action appear intentional, so that the patient doesn’t catch on. “Fake it till you make it” is an excellent motto come Monday mornings at Tensely Eye.

“I lost my glasses,” Mr. A announces. Alright, were they for reading or distance? “They were for up close stuff,” he notes. Cover your left eye and… I try to start the exam. “But I lost them,” he cuts me off, giggling uncontrollably. I stop, waiting for him to continue.

I am a hairdresser, he starts. Sometimes... I help out the local funeral home by doing ladies hair for their funerals. (I am trying not to giggle at this point) So, one day I was there and I happened to place my glasses down next to the coffin as I was working. When I was finished, I gathered my things and headed home. When I realized I had left my glasses there I returned the next day. Unfortunately, the funeral director thought they were the ladie's glasses. Now they are six feet under,” he lets out with a whooping laugh.

I sit in my chair staring at him trying not to cry and/or pee in my pants. This is by far the best lost pair of glasses story I have ever heard. When you become a doctor there is some semblance of authority that comes with it. I’m not saying I don’t know how to handle ocular disease, no matter how tricky or serious it is. I am good at the doctor part. It’s the maintaining order and not appearing as person with loss of her faculties that is difficult. In this case, it is inappropriate to spray spit across your patients face as you let out a belly laugh that everyone in the waiting room can hear. People respect me. Not that this happened, wink. Mr. A left my chair with a new pair of glasses ordered and the suggestion of an eyeglass leash, so as to never lose another pair to the depths below.
The day goes by fast which is quite a surprise. My last patient is on time and with a spring in his step enters the exam room. After going through his chief complaint and medical history we hit a snag on medications. Yes, he is taking lisinopril for hypertension and simvastatin for cholesterol. Any other meds? "Yes," he answers. It comes in a box with colors on it. What is it for? "I dont know," he answers. Is it a pill? No. Is it a drop? No. Is it an ointment? No. Is it an inhaler? No. Do you recieve it in injection? Nope. Exasperated I ask, do you put it in your mouth?! " I dont know!" he exclaimes. He decides to call his daughter. She picks up the phone and answers the question with a bit of a laugh, "He is taking Donazepil". I giggle to myself and thank her. The rest of the exam goes smoothly, a really nice patient.
I pack up and peace out as soon as my notes were finished and my room is cleaned up. I have to return everything to its rightful place, so that Tuesday morning goes a little more smoothly. Im home with the sun still shining so I change into running gear and head out the door. My Ipod is charged and my guilty pleasure rings clear in my ears "Cheated by the opposite of love, held on high from up up up above..." The Yeah Yeah Yeahs are my workout buddies. They feel my pain. That is a joke, becasue I am walking, not running. It still counts as exercise. I get home, shower again and hear my phone ring. Thinking its my mother bugging me about my day I slowly make my way back to my room. "Matt from the bar that I can't remember" appears on the screen. I am instantly proud of being so specific when including this boy in my phone. I pick up, "hello?"
After a brief and all too random conversation I hang up. I check my computer and he has facebook friended me. Excellent! Online stalking is one of my favorite pasttimes. I accept and head into his photos. Up until now I was picturing a blonde curly haired beau with blue eyes, slightly emo, after all he lives in Brooklyn. I couldnt be further off. Bright blue eyes are about all I got correct. He has dark brown hair, amazing deep dimples and is hotter than I could have even imagined. Up until now I believe my beer goggles have worked the exact opposite way. Why is he talking to me? He was sober I recall. Probably needs a refraction. I smile anyway and wonder, should I be taking an alzheimer med myself?

Rock Bottom

So... out of laziness, here is the first installment. It is from that so called book I was going to write... funny, nonetheless.




The older gentleman, smelling of cigarettes and Old spice, enters the exam room and with little trouble sat slowly back into the pink leather automated chair. “I’ve been seeing these little lightnin’ bolts for the last couple of days,” he explained. These words strike minute panic in the mind of any optometry. The differential diagnosis processes through my head, retinal tear or detachment coming to the top of that list. “I keep seeing this little bug too, except it’s not a bug, ‘ cause I can’t catch it,” he continues. A momentary sigh of relief, more likely a partial or new vitreous detachment, I think. I continue my exam pick out glasses and put dilating drops in both eyes. With a little help of an outstretched hand, I pull him out of his chair and send him on his way to the waiting room where he attempt to read Men’s Health or highlights to bide his time before I blast the back of his eyes with light.
As he steps out the door I open my drawer just enough to catch the top half of my blackberry. This is a daily, almost semi-hourly ritual. Flash! A red blink of a light catches my eye. Now these are the flashes I wait for. That faint red light blinking is key to any happiness. Someone wants to talk to me! Click, and scroll. ‘I feel like a liar… I am kinda in a relationship right now. So if you don’t want to talk to the old man anymore, I totally understand….’ Excuse me?
Only recently on a night out, those of which come few and far between, I donned a black long-sleeved shirt, skinny jeans and large gold earrings (my only semblance of dressing up). I headed out to dinner with Sarah, a friend from college. Dinner turned into drinks, then into shots and enough beer to stock a frat house for a weekend. “Can you get into the bar?” He said. I pushed aside a girl in leggings and heels and large 1920s horn rimmed specs and asked for 4four Stellas. I handed one to him, his friend, my friend and then took a sip of my own. I tried to walk away. He seems cute though. So I struck up a conversation. After about fifteen minutes I realized Sarah had left so I kindly giggled, handed him my card and walked away. On my way home at 3am I get a text. Not to meet up, just a hello.
I kept this up for the next week, and eventually turned into blackberry messenging. In a conference that Friday I get the very oh so unfamiliar ‘ by the way I have a daughter… did I tell you that?’ Shock me, shock me, shock me with that deviant behavior. He sent a picture. She is adorable. Over the course of the weekend he couldn’t hang out (Yes, I still wanted to hang out with him) because he had his daughter. He was taking her to the latest Pixar movie and the arcade. He is a little older, so it’s not completely irrational for him to have a kid, I thought. He is being a pretty standup guy - and talks about her like she is the greatest thing since sliced bread. That has to count for something right? 7am Monday morning, I miss his first BBM that says good morning. Wow, this guy is up early and first thing he thinks of is me? I feel important. I feel dare I say it? Liked! I smile, answer back swaying in between lanes as the rain pelts my windshield. Oprah would be very disappointed in me for texting while driving. Im a product of the times, Im sorry Oprah. I go about my day, first few patients pleasent enough. Chatting here and there between dilations. and I smile to see the blinking light after my last patient. A new patient to the clinic who walked in with escalated eye pressure, on maximum glaucoma meds, post surgery and a pale cupped out nerve just left my chair. So, you are in a relationship. Fuck my life. I close the app, tuck my blackberry in the drawer holding back tears that should never be shed in the first place. I put on a smile, call in my next patient who inevitably smells like poop and will call me sweetheart throughout the exam despite introducing myself as Dr. Catanio

So much to do, so little time! Strike that, reverse it!

Unfortunately, as the summer weather fades away and the appeal of a beach vacation dwindles, I've found my free time ample and visitors to be none. After nine years of extensive schooling I am now in the position to only have to work three and a half days a week. This leaves far too much time to be left on my own. Stieg Larsson has currently kept me busy. However, his books though grotesque are so interesting I am halfway through the last one and I only started Girl with a Dragon Tattoo last Friday. Far too many cups of coffee drank (or drunk? drunken?) and far too many fears of rapists, molotov cocktails and dreamy journalists have brought me to this.
I should take this time to fully disclose that I have no grasp whatsoever on grammar, let alone the english language as a whole. I started out with the notion to write a book. For those of you who know me, you know my likelihood of completing anything is slim to none. However, Im generally overly enthusiastic about any new endeavor - for at least the first couple weeks. So with big grins, Im going try this blogging thing out.
Eyes and guys? So, for the most of you who will read this, it'll hopefully give you chuckles about the various funny patients Ive had so far. If you are an optometrist, that is. After the last four years of school and one year of residency, I dont claim to be an expert, but I know eyes. In my past 27 years Ive attempted almost every sport, tried to play multiple instruments, and taken many courses. It is safe to say, Im pretty bad at a lot of things. Eyeballs, I kinda just get. And more importantly, I kinda love. I love my job, and I dont think many people can say that.
After the many bruises accrued from trying to play tennis, yes tennis... or the blank stares from my parents while attempting to play Logins and Messina (not my choice, hated my instructor!) on the guitar... nothing probably compares to my lack of ability with boys. I know nothing, I don't really get them, but like most of my life, Ive gotten some pretty funny stories out of it.
So, lets hope you enjoy my silly tales of boys, joys, whoas, and eyeballs! Sometimes Im funny and sometimes, like in that last sentence, well, Im not.