For Mr.Blum & Jessica, who think this blog sucks...and after reading this, they will be queasy and think this blog sucks
I'm back. Been on a bit of hiatus.
Want to know what's been on the going?
Tom, the Master of the House, so to speak, where I am currently residing, has found himself in yet another unfortunate rout concerning his health.
Note Tom, circa 3 weeks ago, showing his benign eye-blister to Matt and I.
(The both of them are cleverly displaying their middle fingers because I asked that they re-enact the scene that had played out just moments prior, when they were using their pointer fingers, and I thought it would make a good picture. Apparently, displaying this gesture in a photograph remains quite a funny joke for some males pushing thirty. Awesome.)
Eye-blister indeed! How does one get such a thing?
Years ago, according to Tom, he's walking to his car in the parking lot of Lens Crafters, after an eye exam. He opens the envelope the optician gave him and with a miscalculation of his hand, a slight wind, and an ironic twist of fate, the razor-like edge of paper from Lens Crafters slices his cornea.
Two mornings ago, I was summoned from my bedroom quite early by Tom. His eye-blister popped.
Fate had played yet another twisted joke on Tom: It was 3 years ago, to the day, that he had felt the wrath of the paper's raw edge upon his eyeball.
"Does it hurt?" I ask. (I was still, more or less, asleep.)
"Yeah," Tom says. "Feels like a shard of glass is in my eye."
And that, my dear reader, is the first of many colorful descriptions of the State of Tom's Eye, by Tom. I mean no disrespect here...I understand pain, I talk about my pain, I describe the conditions of my pain. The problem is that during his descriptions, I actually listen to him, and my imagination does not do me the favor of relaxing. Also he had me look at his eyeball to make sure it wasn't bleeding.
"Sorry," Tom says, "to make you look at my eyeball, oozing pus..."
Nausea.
"Dammit, Tom!" I yell internally. "Look at it yourself!"
I look. No blood. Just red & bloodshot, with a dangly, little flap of eyeball protrusion.
Cold & flu symptoms: I can handle the talk. Blood: one reason why I could never be a doctor. (I'll be honest, there are plenty of reasons...lack of "book smarts," poor "bedside manner," inability to "stay in school," my parents think I may have "ADHD.") But talking about the EYES! About objects or lesions on the EYEBALL! Oh dear God!
Excuse me,
I have to go vomit.
Want to know what's been on the going?
Tom, the Master of the House, so to speak, where I am currently residing, has found himself in yet another unfortunate rout concerning his health.
Note Tom, circa 3 weeks ago, showing his benign eye-blister to Matt and I.
(The both of them are cleverly displaying their middle fingers because I asked that they re-enact the scene that had played out just moments prior, when they were using their pointer fingers, and I thought it would make a good picture. Apparently, displaying this gesture in a photograph remains quite a funny joke for some males pushing thirty. Awesome.)
Eye-blister indeed! How does one get such a thing?
Years ago, according to Tom, he's walking to his car in the parking lot of Lens Crafters, after an eye exam. He opens the envelope the optician gave him and with a miscalculation of his hand, a slight wind, and an ironic twist of fate, the razor-like edge of paper from Lens Crafters slices his cornea.
Two mornings ago, I was summoned from my bedroom quite early by Tom. His eye-blister popped.
Fate had played yet another twisted joke on Tom: It was 3 years ago, to the day, that he had felt the wrath of the paper's raw edge upon his eyeball.
"Does it hurt?" I ask. (I was still, more or less, asleep.)
"Yeah," Tom says. "Feels like a shard of glass is in my eye."
And that, my dear reader, is the first of many colorful descriptions of the State of Tom's Eye, by Tom. I mean no disrespect here...I understand pain, I talk about my pain, I describe the conditions of my pain. The problem is that during his descriptions, I actually listen to him, and my imagination does not do me the favor of relaxing. Also he had me look at his eyeball to make sure it wasn't bleeding.
"Sorry," Tom says, "to make you look at my eyeball, oozing pus..."
Nausea.
"Dammit, Tom!" I yell internally. "Look at it yourself!"
I look. No blood. Just red & bloodshot, with a dangly, little flap of eyeball protrusion.
Cold & flu symptoms: I can handle the talk. Blood: one reason why I could never be a doctor. (I'll be honest, there are plenty of reasons...lack of "book smarts," poor "bedside manner," inability to "stay in school," my parents think I may have "ADHD.") But talking about the EYES! About objects or lesions on the EYEBALL! Oh dear God!
Excuse me,
I have to go vomit.
posted by Stephanie at 7:59 PM
1 Comments:
Our Tuesday of learning just set the bar too high.
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