The One With The Diseased Eye

8 Jun


By the time I finally work myself up enough to actually go to a Doctor, I might be almost dieing, and am for sure feeling like third week hairy left-overs in a fridge. My fear of those bastards and the wrong -smelling world they live in, is such, that I’ve for sure lost multiple days of sleep and might even be on the way to an Anxiety melt-down about some Google-disease I’m convinced I have, by the time I finally walk (or crawl ) into their doors.

…And so it was today, with my diseased left eyeball.

On day three, night two, of crap sleep ever since I woke up Saturday with a red veigney eye from outta nowhere…which no drop or salve seemed able to cure…I finally gave up today, and got an appointment to the eye Doc, where they poked, shined lights, poked, folded my eyelids back and scraped at em, poked, dropped fizzy hurt-drops in, poked, and ended up with the conclusion that they didn’t know what was going on, but there was no disease/object/infection they could find…so I should go home, and come back later, if it kept hurting and being red or got worse.

…Which (even with full medical) cost me $50. $50, so they could make my eyeball feel worse than when I walked in, with promise that I’d come back for more, if it didn’t start feeling better, totally on it’s own at some point in the next several days.

I effing hate that shit.

…I hate that they never give you cold meds on first doctor visits anymore. I hate it that they soak you with PPO fees. I hate it that whether they find nothing, or something, their prescription of “come back later” is mostly all you get.

…Come back and spend more money you haven’t got, when you are already feeling for-shit, else why the hell would you even be there to begin with?!?

…Me and my pinched-squinting, sandpaper, blurry-haloed eyeball are now both pissed and irritated, that I’ve farted away all my damn lunch money for the week, because like an idiot, I tried to be proactive (three days later) and maybe manage to save my eyeball from some potentially horrible disease-fate. Instead, I’m just poorer, and my eyeball thinks I’m a total asshole for putting him through all that extra stress and pain for nothing.

…Meanwhile, my backup glasses are two prescriptions old, I can’t read anything, and the TV is blurry from the couch.


…Stupid “all the things!”


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