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