Trying desperately to keep my eyes open (since the doctor’s fingers were in them), I inwardly cringed at the thought of that little white bottle coming close enough to my eyeball to plant in it a drop of yellow, foul smelling liquid.
“Don’t worry, they’re just numbing drops”, the doctor said.
“Don’t worry! Why in the world do you need to numb my eyeball?” I shrieked.
By the time the chuckle had left the doctor’s lips, I immediately decided I would not like him. Now, in all fairness, he was polite, socially chatty, and I’m sure well credentialed to numb eyeballs. I just happen to have a phobia of things touching (or coming within six inches) of my eye.The professional name for this phobia remains a mystery, at least to me; however, the fear is just as tangible as that of a properly named phobia.
Perhaps “touchy-eye-aphobia” would be an appropriate name. I may need to contact the national “name-that-phobia” committee and suggest “touchy-eye-aphobia” be considered as the official clinical term.
My palms did sweat (not to mention my armpits), my muscles tensed (and not just because I was holding in my belly), and my head literally trembled as the doctor inserted this mechanical contraption into the realm of “sacred eyeball land”. I was astonished! Although my eye felt no pain (thanks to the numbing drops), the feeling that my eyeball was being suctioned left me in quite the panic. It was reminiscent of the suction cup they use to help extract a baby from the womb (not that I have first hand experience with those suction cups).
After the ordeal (done twice thanks to a high reading), I was left thoroughly drained. I felt like an overcooked, limp strand of spaghetti and that’s not to mention how my eyeball felt. You know the numb way your lip protrudes about a foot from your face after a visit with the dentist? Imagine my eye.
My nose was also running (for me, a natural reaction to extreme trauma) a sappy yellow substance. At first glance, I feared my brain had suffered injury from over-suctioning, but I soon remembered that my ears, eyes, and nose were all internally connected. Don’t ask what was leaking from my ears.
I avoid eye doctors at all cost; however, my glasses just haven’t been clearing my vision and I enjoy my eyesight, so what choice did I have? To add insult to injury, the doctor tells me that my current glasses are bogus. Hardly any prescription. Somebody had a made a terrible error. It’s no wonder I couldn’t see.
“Didn’t you notice that you couldn’t see out of these?” He smugly asked.
“Why, of course I noticed…would I subject myself to visiting you if I didn’t need new glasses?”
It hurts me to realize I suffered emotional and mental trauma for someone’s mistake. BUT, that’s life…I guess.
My eyeballs can rest easy for at least two more years.