Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. PERIOD.
When I woke up to attend to Joshua's unhappy collision with his bed, my right eye decided it was too early to wake up, and decided to stay closed, despite all my efforts to otherwise blink, etc. It felt like my eyelid was coated in little shards of glass, and when I tried to look and see where those naughty shards were, my eyeball refused, and I promptly went to bed. Why fight it, right? Well, 2 hours later, I finally dragged myself and my reluctant eyeball out of bed, and tried to get ready for the day. My hopes that my eyeball would get better were dashed each minute that passed and the horrible, horrible pain that ticked with each movement of the long hand of the clock. Since I was landlocked (with Eva in bed, and my doubts that I should drive in my cyclops state) I reached out to my fambily for help.
My mother and sister arrived shortly after my cry for assistance, and brought some magical eye drops that would cure all of my problems...riiiiigggggghhhhhhttttt.......
After they completed their mission of mercy, they quickly left, due to their fear of my optical disease ("IT'S PINK EYE!" my mother exclaimed.) I rushed to the bathroom to make my ouchies go bye bye.
I unwrapped the little plastic bottle, shook it, and proceed to "apply directly to eye. Do not swallow." Sha ZIIIINNNNGGGGGGG! YEEEEEEOOOOUUUUUUUCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I paused for a moment...
"Wow, that was nasty...Let's try again just to make sure..." Sha ZIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!
It was then...oh, excuse me. It was then that I decided that a professional needed to attend to my eye, and I set up an appointment for the next day, which I promptly changed 5 minutes later when I realized that I didn't really want to wait that long. I mean, really...My eyeball was killing me from the outside in.
I threw my kiddies into the car, and whizzed down to the doctors office. I have to tell you, driving when one eye is screaming "ERROR! ERROR!" is a little stressful.
I think waiting rooms should be renamed Waiting and Waiting rooms. We were called back, finally (Probably after the receptionist noticed Eva dismantling the Christmas Tree), and were shooed into a room and both my children decided that was a good place to have a meltdown. Both. At the same time. At the top of their lungs. It was rather embarrassing. I don't think those doors were sound proof, so I made up for their volume by speaking very quietly to them. It didn't work. It wasn't my volume, it was what I was saying that was making Joshua scream. There is no way, and I should have realized this, that saying quietly "I am taking away your candy" is going to help a child not throw a tantrum. He kept screaming and melting from his chair onto the floor saying "NO NO NO NO NO!" Sigh... Eva decided to have some pity on me and agreed to be content in my lap with a container of wet wipes to play with. Hallelujah for small blessings.
Then the doctor came in. Actually she was a physicians assistant. She seemed very nice, but obviously wished I had left my children in the waiting room to dismantle the tree. I couldn't have agreed more, but I knew the receptionist wouldn't have liked that. She then asked me several questions, and told me I didn't have pink eye, but that I probably had an Ocular Abrasion, or something like that, that boiled down to me having a scrap on my eye. Very anti-climactic. "OOOO! Do you have Pink Eye?" "No...just a ocular scrape." "Oh..." To test her theory, the PA had me lay down, and then put some happy juice in my eye that made my eye numb (she informed me before hand that under no circumstances could I have anymore) and then put some orange dye into my eye and then looked at it under an ultraviolet light. "Yup," she quipped. "You have a scratch on your eye. Here is a prescription...blah blah blah." I won't go into detail about getting the prescription and going home, but needless to say it was the worst afternoon of my life.
My mother and sister arrived shortly after my cry for assistance, and brought some magical eye drops that would cure all of my problems...riiiiigggggghhhhhhttttt.......
After they completed their mission of mercy, they quickly left, due to their fear of my optical disease ("IT'S PINK EYE!" my mother exclaimed.) I rushed to the bathroom to make my ouchies go bye bye.
I unwrapped the little plastic bottle, shook it, and proceed to "apply directly to eye. Do not swallow." Sha ZIIIINNNNGGGGGGG! YEEEEEEOOOOUUUUUUUCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I paused for a moment...
"Wow, that was nasty...Let's try again just to make sure..." Sha ZIIIIIINNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!
It was then...oh, excuse me. It was then that I decided that a professional needed to attend to my eye, and I set up an appointment for the next day, which I promptly changed 5 minutes later when I realized that I didn't really want to wait that long. I mean, really...My eyeball was killing me from the outside in.
I threw my kiddies into the car, and whizzed down to the doctors office. I have to tell you, driving when one eye is screaming "ERROR! ERROR!" is a little stressful.
I think waiting rooms should be renamed Waiting and Waiting rooms. We were called back, finally (Probably after the receptionist noticed Eva dismantling the Christmas Tree), and were shooed into a room and both my children decided that was a good place to have a meltdown. Both. At the same time. At the top of their lungs. It was rather embarrassing. I don't think those doors were sound proof, so I made up for their volume by speaking very quietly to them. It didn't work. It wasn't my volume, it was what I was saying that was making Joshua scream. There is no way, and I should have realized this, that saying quietly "I am taking away your candy" is going to help a child not throw a tantrum. He kept screaming and melting from his chair onto the floor saying "NO NO NO NO NO!" Sigh... Eva decided to have some pity on me and agreed to be content in my lap with a container of wet wipes to play with. Hallelujah for small blessings.
Then the doctor came in. Actually she was a physicians assistant. She seemed very nice, but obviously wished I had left my children in the waiting room to dismantle the tree. I couldn't have agreed more, but I knew the receptionist wouldn't have liked that. She then asked me several questions, and told me I didn't have pink eye, but that I probably had an Ocular Abrasion, or something like that, that boiled down to me having a scrap on my eye. Very anti-climactic. "OOOO! Do you have Pink Eye?" "No...just a ocular scrape." "Oh..." To test her theory, the PA had me lay down, and then put some happy juice in my eye that made my eye numb (she informed me before hand that under no circumstances could I have anymore) and then put some orange dye into my eye and then looked at it under an ultraviolet light. "Yup," she quipped. "You have a scratch on your eye. Here is a prescription...blah blah blah." I won't go into detail about getting the prescription and going home, but needless to say it was the worst afternoon of my life.
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"ourful" as in... that book is ourful...