Last night, Russ and I were laying in bed and I was reading aloud some incredibly important information off of my favorite news source, Facebook. I suddenly stumbled upon an article about a local "Doc in a Box" (which I will refer to simply as "DnB" for the remainder of this post) that Russ and I had both been to in the past.
Stirring up memories of my experiences at this local establishment, I suddenly laugh. The kind of laugh that surprises your nose for some reason and makes you snort. (Luckily, I had already swallowed by vino).
You see, one night a few years back, I went to bed with my eye bothering me. This was nothing new. I wear contacts, I am not the best at cleaning my hands before messing with them, blah blah blah... The next morning when I awoke, I could not open my eye. Certain that I was going blind, I finally convince Russ that this is serious and he must drive me to the emergency room immediately. Well, we settle (and by settle I mean I am at Russ' mercy since I cannot see to drive myself) on going to a "DnB", even though I feared they may not have the proper equipment to save my eyeball. Russ however, was sure it was worth risking my eyesight to save some money.
So, I throw on some shorts (which turned out to be Soffe shorts [cheerleader shorts from high school] if that tells you how rushed I was; because, at this stage of my life I should not really own, let alone be seen in public wearing these) and some form of a t-shirt.
Russ helps me to the car, I mean heavens- I can't see! The last thing I need is to fall and get another injury!
We finally get to the "DnB". Russ takes me to a seat in the waiting room, where I must sit in agony and wait for an hour. He goes to the counter to fill out the necessary paperwork and eventually returns. With popcorn! Popcorn! This place has a popcorn machine! Are we at a movie theater? Well, I would not know if we were- because I can't freakin' see! He offers me some and I glare at him with my one good eye. No thank you, dear husband. Apparently you forgot that I might be blind in one eye! So, I am really not in the mood for popcorn. Not to mention it is like 9:00 in the morning.
Finally after being forced to wait forever, sitting beside my husband who has been chomping away on what should not be anywhere near me at the moment, a nurse comes and rescues me. She guides me to the back and helps me up onto the exam table. They take my vitals or whatever all that stuff is called and tell me that the Doctor will be in shortly. 12 years later he decides to grace me with his presence, introduces himself and another lady who will be sitting in and transcribing everything we say onto her laptop. (Now I felt like I just left the theater and arrived in court.)
Anywho- I relay the story of why I am there... he flips up my eyelid and there it is. Fiberglass. Fiberglass? (I have heard of this substance, but how one goes about getting it in their eye is still a mystery at this point.) This fiberglass had been stuck in my eyelid, scratching my eyeball every time my eyeball or eyelid moved! (Which, no matter how still you try to keep them- they both move. A lot. Seriously. Try it. You will look like an idiot, but it really is practically impossible.)
The Doc assured me that I was not going to be blind, I had just scratched the crap out of my cornea and I needed drops and rest so it could heal. Then he looks at his transcriber and asks her to stop typing. He takes a seat and looks me in the eyes (I mean, eye) and says, "Now, is there anything else that you need to tell me? This is a safe space and you can talk to me."
Now, I realize I am in the midst of recovering from shock from my traumatic eyeball episode, but I have not a clue what this guy is talking about. He obviously sees the confusion/whaaaaaat? smeared all over my face and points down to my thighs. I look down and then, even I can see, that they are totally covered in bruises. I immediately do the surprise laugh, resulting in a snort. (I would like to take this time to thank my Soffe shorts for revealing way more than anyone should be subjected to eyeball [ha].)
Now, when are thighs... covered in bruises... ever funny you are probably asking yourself?
"Well, you see Doctor... I was at a bachelorette party this past weekend"
"Ok?" (Now his face is smeared with confusion/whaaaaaat?)
"Well... we had a party bus."
"Ok?" (His face has not changed at all- head cocking a bit more).
"Well... this party bus... it had a stripper pole."
(Now he is doing the surprise laugh/snort.)
"It turns out, that I am not very good... especially when the bus is in motion."
The Dr. slowly turns to the lady with the laptop (who seemed to still be processing what she just heard) and said "you did not write any of that down, did you?"
She slowly shook her head side to side.
"Good."
Luckily, it was time for us to wrap up the appointment and for me to gracefully make my exit with my bum eye, badly bruised thighs, and Soffe shorts. I quickly paid my copay, grabbed my non-beater of a husband who was trying to figure out why I was not talking and in such a hurry, and we walked out into the sunshine (which consequently really hurt my scratched cornea).
And, eye am out-
Raquelle Heavenhooter*
*You can find out your stripper name here: Stripper Name Maker
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