Yeah, I took yesterday off to have my eyes examined (or "phased" in eye parlance), because when I went in to get my first pair of specs ever (to better read at night to think of posts for here, because you are my first thought from the moment I get up), the administering tech at the Uncle Chuckle's Bigg-Tyme Eye Hole (or wherever) thought that I showed high pressure or some sort of pre-pre-pre-glaucoma. As opposed to prep glaucoma, which causes me to still wear white turtlenecks in winter like it's sweet '89, hoss.
So I had my eyes checked six times hourly on the half-hour before the nice doctor set me free (and I got my haircut and oil changed and went to the bank and picked up the baby and basically felt like sober Iggy Pop in a 1984 RS interview wherein he talks about being proud of getting things done like vacuuming), saying that not only was a) my pressure within normal "not needing glaucoma drops til the end of time" range (yar!), but b) some other test (wherein the eye surface is numbed and some mechanical pencil-seeming gizmo is placed on the actual surface of the cornea, thus causing weird bubbling in vision not un-akin to looking through pushed-upon-and-bowing plexiglass) showed that I have unusually thick corneal membranes, thus making even my "good" number on eye pressure even better (somehow!)! Plus, this maybe explains why everyone in junior high school called me "Thick Membranes."
So, yeah, I can now return the soccer ball with internal bells I bought so I would be able to play with my still-infant sonny boy when the time came...in fact, if you were thinking of buying one for me, cancel the order and send cash.
And, obviously, if I had been going blind, I would have used the latest in dictation technology to ensure that service here would not be interrupted. Never, ever that.
No comments:
Post a Comment