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?
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