Ever since my car accident, I have had to go see a retina specialist at least once a year. This is much better because before, I had to go and see him at least twice a week.
I'd rather have a root canal than go see the retina specialist...even if he is ridiculously hot.
Yesterday morning, I went straight to the office right after work. I was the youngest person in the office. All the older patients in there looked at me as if I had a third arm growing out of my head. After a night at work, I feel like I have something growing somewhere...usually on my shoes from something I may have stepped in. I'm in wrinkled scrubs, dark circles under my eyes, and a perpetual scowl on my face.
After waiting, and waiting, my name is finally called. I am taken back to a dark room where the assistant puts these eye drops that smell like moldy socks in my eyes. I do the obligatory eye exam and she tells me that my vision has changed...big shocker there. Then, she takes me to a different waiting room where there are 4 television sets playing some sort of video explaining all the fun ailments for vision. You could be losing your eyesight because of this...or this...or this. Also, there are magazines everywhere. I always found the irony in the fact that there are magazines in a waiting room where everyone's eyes are dilated, rendering everyone illiterate. One lady in the waiting room is telling some stranger about how she had cancer...twice.
"Wow", remarks the stranger, "I bet going through that sort of makes one reassess life and adopt a different way of living."
"Nope" the old lady replies.
Intrigued by this conversation, I immediately fall asleep in one of the chairs.
The next thing I know, my retina specialist is tapping me on the shoulder and beckoning me to another exam room. Grounds for waking me up from a nap is usually immediate death, but I spare him because he is ridiculously hot. "You look like hell" he observes.
Now, here comes the part I loathe and despise about these visits...
Dr. Hottie has me sit in something that looks like a dentist's chair. The room is dark, I am now in a reclined position with my feet in the air. The only thing missing is mood music.
Dr. Hottie reaches in his pocket and pulls out a little box. Inside the box, he pulls out a little prism.
My blood turns cold.
He then switches on his little eye-doctor-penlight which is 10 times stronger than a Maglite.
Beads of sweat start forming on my head. If I had balls, I'm sure I would be sweating there also.
Dr. Hottie then gently places one hand on my head and slides it back as if stroking my hair. I feel pressure because he is now holding my head in place. There is no escape for me now.
The other hand pries one of left eye open. I should be grateful. He used to use an evil metal tool to do this.
He shines his little light into the prism, which focuses it's magnified blinding bright light right into my eyes.
In case I forgot to mention, my eyes are very sensitive to bright light.
So, while I am squirming and convulsing in the chair, Dr. Hottie shines his light around, peering through my eyes into the back of my head. Even I can see my own blood vessels. To make things worse, he commands me to look at the the light here, here, here and here. As a distraction, he tries to ask me questions about my job. It's hard to answer because I'm in extreme pain.
After torturing me, Dr. Hottie writes me a script for a new set of glasses because of my ever-changing vision. We chat while I try to get accustomed to seeing again. Dr. Hottie is not only ridiculously hot, he is also insanely smart...and if he wasn't married, I'd be all over that like a fat kid on a cupcake.
After my visit, I am unleashed upon the world...eyes fully dilated. Did I mention I drove?? It doesn't matter...as long as I don't have to read anything, I do okay. Fortunately, the sun wasn't out, and I had dark glasses on.
I'm certain I looked like a dork. But this is my experience, so shut your piehole.