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2004-02-18 - 7:58 p.m. Eyeballs I went to see John Hiatt a couple of years ago. It occurs to me that this is not going to sound very complimentary at first - bear with me. As I was saying - he wasn't someone I was dying to see. I only knew one song of his. But I liked it. Also, the show was local, the ticket wasn't expensive, and I hadn't seen any shows in a while. I can only go so long between concerts before I start to get the shakes. So I went. He was excellent. I now know and like many more of his songs. This was him, with a guitar, standing alone on stage. I've seen others do that, and fall very flat. He was captivating. Between songs, he sometimes told stories, and there was one he told about meeting a young fan, about four or five years of age. I may be horribly mutilating this story, but as I remember it, it was before a show, and John asked the little boy if there was any particular song he'd like to hear. The little boy said, "Yeah, sing the eyeball song!" The song just has "eyeball" in the lyrics. It isn't about eyeballs, any more than this entry was supposed to be about John Hiatt. I just can't think of the word "eyeball" any more without thinking of him. The subject of this entry was going to be my eye doctor. Well, one of them. In the past month I've seen two, just because they share a practice and I was fine with seeing whoever was available. You may remember me whining weeks ago about pink eye. It was miserable. It got a lot better, but that eyeball was still giving me trouble, being all watery and itchy, so yesterday I finally decided it wasn't going to get completely better on its own, and I took it back to the doctor. Well, I went with it. Believe me though, I would have liked to just send it on without me. It was driving me nuts. So I went in and described my current symptoms, and he gave me different drops. The last ones had antibiotics, and these have steroids. I'm gonna have one big strong eyeball. But my eye doctor is great, and he's so funny. He asked if I could come back on Saturday to follow up, and I told him I'd be out of town. He made this little exasperated noise and said, "Well. What kind of patient *are* you?" Maybe you had to be there, but it was very cute. Since I was just talking about the left eye, he asked me if I was having any problems with the right eye. I said nope, it's fine. He said, "No problem at all, it's completely fine, like wonderful, perfect, couldn't feel better?" And I said, "Yeah, that's about right!" And he said, "Okay, just checking." He's great. Why don't they make dentists like him? My eyeball does feel better already, even though twice yesterday I forgot to "shake well" before I put in a drop. Oops. my mood - |
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