There's something in my eye. So I go to the doctors on Sunday morning at 9:00 AM.
Well, in my eye socket really. It's a small, marble-sized hard bubble that feels like it is lodged in my tear duct. My eye isn't irritated. My sinuses aren't really aggravated, but I am experiencing periodic migraines and come-and-go sinus pressure. My mood has dropped tremendously since it has showed up. I am both chronically manic and depressive, constantly trying to start interesting conversation or meaningful bonding moments with people, only to walk away completely defeated and more miserable than when I began.
I am perpetually in an awkward moment. I can't decide on -- I just can't decide period. I am full of shame, but the source is as elusive as the end result of this paragraph. I am on a sliding scale of completely content and in control with my situation, all the way to questioning if my consciousness is jeopardized. It might all blow over. I might turn into a rabid knife-wielding animal. I'll probably just stuff it into a potato sack and cram it in the back of my brain, or tip the conductor $25 to toss it in the caboose and take it away forever.
I'm still poking at the bubble in my eye when the door opens -- Ah, I think, the doctor. I'm actually looking forward to telling him about my problem. I begin telling him about the antibiotics -- that didn't work -- and the antibiotic eye drops -- which also didn't work. As we progress, I actually begin to hope for more tests. I'm hoping for a specialist. They'll stick my head into a machine, and look inside my head. This is getting existential. They'll tell me I owe them $500 and my car will break down on the way home and I will be broke. They'll all feel so bad for me.
I silently laugh to myself about the would-be peptalk I just gave myself, and become interested in the doctor, who now has a light shining directly into my eyeball. I'm moving my eye left, right, up, down at his command.
I feel grounded again. No complicated thought process. I'm at the doctors office. I'm getting a minor problem checked out. I am not paranoid -- he told me to come back last time in 48 hours if the eye drops didn't help. It's been two weeks.
Well, in my eye socket really. It's a small, marble-sized hard bubble that feels like it is lodged in my tear duct. My eye isn't irritated. My sinuses aren't really aggravated, but I am experiencing periodic migraines and come-and-go sinus pressure. My mood has dropped tremendously since it has showed up. I am both chronically manic and depressive, constantly trying to start interesting conversation or meaningful bonding moments with people, only to walk away completely defeated and more miserable than when I began.
I am perpetually in an awkward moment. I can't decide on -- I just can't decide period. I am full of shame, but the source is as elusive as the end result of this paragraph. I am on a sliding scale of completely content and in control with my situation, all the way to questioning if my consciousness is jeopardized. It might all blow over. I might turn into a rabid knife-wielding animal. I'll probably just stuff it into a potato sack and cram it in the back of my brain, or tip the conductor $25 to toss it in the caboose and take it away forever.
I'm still poking at the bubble in my eye when the door opens -- Ah, I think, the doctor. I'm actually looking forward to telling him about my problem. I begin telling him about the antibiotics -- that didn't work -- and the antibiotic eye drops -- which also didn't work. As we progress, I actually begin to hope for more tests. I'm hoping for a specialist. They'll stick my head into a machine, and look inside my head. This is getting existential. They'll tell me I owe them $500 and my car will break down on the way home and I will be broke. They'll all feel so bad for me.
I silently laugh to myself about the would-be peptalk I just gave myself, and become interested in the doctor, who now has a light shining directly into my eyeball. I'm moving my eye left, right, up, down at his command.
I feel grounded again. No complicated thought process. I'm at the doctors office. I'm getting a minor problem checked out. I am not paranoid -- he told me to come back last time in 48 hours if the eye drops didn't help. It's been two weeks.
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