By Jody Worsham
All rights
reserved for DIY Surgery
I recently
joined the 21st century with the purchase of a smart phone but I did
not understand why they called it an I phone if it is a smart phone. Wouldn’t it be called an S-Phone ? Maybe the I stands for intelligent. When I told my mother about my I-phone, she
could not understand why I wanted a phone that you had to hold up to your eye. That got me to thinking about homonyms (words
that sound alike but are spelled differently and have differently meanings) and
my son’s doctor. I shall explain.
My middle
aged son has a prosthetic eye so when he gets an eye infection, I take it quite
seriously. When I saw the swollen
tissue around his eye socket, I went into “Mama Over-Drive.” I called our local VA clinic only to discover
they were “in between” ophthalmologists.
No surprise there. She advised me
to take him to the Houston VA three hours away in heavy traffic. “Nope, we will go to Shreveport. It’s closer,
smaller, less traffic, and I know my way around.” Civilian Mama’s can say that.
When dealing
with government agencies, you go directly to where the power is and that would be
a secretary or receptionist. If you can
find a person that is both, you are gold.
I called the Eye Clinic and hit pay dirt with James, receptionist and
secretary. I explained the situation and
that we were already in the system. He
told me that if I asked for a referral from home, it could take two to three
weeks so go directly to the Emergency Room.
“A nurse will look at him and say
‘Hummm’ and refer him to a P.A. who will look at him and say ‘Hummm’ and refer
him to a doctor who will look at him and say ‘Hummm, send him to the eye clinic’ and I will get you in to see an eye
specialist.”
The next
morning we left at 6a.m. My plan was to
arrive in time to get a parking space within a mile of the emergency room,
after the early morning heart attacks had been treated, and before the 8a.m.
shift changes to avoid being lost in the switch over. We lucked out in that we did get a parking
spot a few yards from the ER entrance and before the shift change.
I had removed my son’s fake eye and had it in
a zip lock bag with water. I
contemplated having him carry that in his hand with his eye socket uncovered
achieving a sort of a zombie look in hopes we would gross everybody out and get
faster service but it was before breakfast and the only person getting queasy
was me.
Just as
predicted at 9a.m. the nurse said “Hummm.”
At 10 a.m. the P.A. said “Hummm” and at 11 a.m. the doctor said “Hummm. Send him over to the eye clinic.”
At 11 a.m.
James got us registered and an appointment with the eye specialist. Now I have learned over the years to be
prepared for long waits. I had my I-Pad
and I-Phone fully charged. I had my tote
bag with water, diet Coke, Snickers, two skeins of yarn, crochet needle,
scissors, a couple of “Kin We’re Not Related To” books to sell or read, the
eyeball, and a list of all medications.
At 3 p.m. I
had eaten the Snickers, drank the diet Coke, and crocheted three sweaters, an afghan,
four scarves and a hat. I had advanced
eight levels on Candy Crush and texted everybody I knew on my now dead I-phone
and I-pad.
Finally we
got in to see the doctor who asked:
“Why did you
take the eye out?”
“It was
hurting him.”
“You took it
out because it was hurting him?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“You took it
out yesterday, yourself, the eye?”
“That’s what
I said.”
Finally my
son said “A doctor took it out after a car crash fifteen years ago.”
The relief
on the doctor’s face caused the color to return.
Fake eye, real eye. Same word, same spelling, different meaning.
When the
doctor could breathe again, he wrote a prescription and asked that we return
the following week to re-evaluate the situation and to see if a new prosthetic eye
is needed.
I resisted the urge to say “AYE, AYE Captain. I will return with my son and the EYE
as requested.”
Ok, cut me
some slack. I didn’t say it….out loud.
Both my brain and my butt were numb. I had been seated in a car or
waiting room for 11 ½ hours. Ayiii-ya-ya Ayiii
