Fun times in a waiting room

Yesterday was an awesomely fun day. By awesomely fun, I mean stressful and boring and annoying.

Backtrack. Two months ago I went to the optometrist to get some new daily contacts, so I could get used to them and be able to wear them for the wedding. At this appointment, our intrepid doctor did a million tests, half of which I’ve never done before (they’re technically advanced) and proclaimed some weirdness in my right eye. Something about macular distortion. I proceeded to freak out (quietly though – would hate to cause a scene) and got a referral to a specialist.

Because I have no private health cover, I went public and got an appointment for yesterday. They stated that I should allow 2-3 hours and should not drive, on account of all the dilating eye drops they would use. The beauty of having dark brown eyes is that I get DOUBLE doses of these lovely eye drops. I tried to enlist The Boy to take a day off work and come with me and hold my hand while I quietly FREAKED OUT, but alas, he had Important Work Stuff. So I cabbed it in and cabbed it home and silently cursed that we haven’t won the lottery YET.

Let me also preface this by stating that I am a stresshead when it comes to medical things of which I know nothing. I had no idea what to expect but all I know is that the eyes are Important. So I called a cab and off I went.

My appointment was at 1:20pm and I was greeted by a waiting room filled with Old People. Lots and lots of Old People. I felt rather young. And I waited. And waited. Then the lovely nurse did an eye test and filled my eyes with drops and drops and then I could not see much. And then I waited. And waited. This was when I wanted The Boy there to entertain me since I couldn’t read or tweet or ANYTHING.

At the end of the day, for some unknown reason, I have bunches of scar tissue behind my right eye. No idea how or when it got there but it’s there. Apparently, in addition to having an old soul, I have old eyes, since this is more common in Old People. I obviously fit in in that waiting room. So we’ll monitor it in 4 months and see if there’s a change. Down the track, there’s a surgery we can do, but it sounds terrible (something about peeling back the jelly and scraping the scar tissue away … I zoned out around then) and hopefully not needed until I’m legitimately an Old Person. Or hopefully never.

Then I got in a cab, which got hit by a car, and came home. I ate popcorn for dinner (which my tummy hates me for) and slept while I still could not see thanks to the drops.

Next time I go, in 4 months time, I’ll take sunglasses and hopefully The Boy. But definitely sunglasses.


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