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Because I have nothing of note to say
Apr. 25th, 2005 12:57 pmSing it loud, Brotha Radley!
Really, I have nothing of interest to say, so feel free to skip the weekend bitchfest which follows:
I saw the opthalmologist on Friday so that the freckle on my iris could be examined. It used to be a nice, pretty dark brown spot. Now it's a diffuse brownish smudge. Since it's changed the optometrist said it should be looked at to rule out melanoma. Also, I was tut-tutted and shamed profusely for allowing 15 years to pass since my last pupil dilation.
But, having my pupils dilated will give me a massive migraine, I protest.
I was ignored.
They looked in the front and took pictures, they looked in the back and took pictures. They propped my eye open, filled it with methylcellulose and saline and did an ultrasound. They looked again. I was praised by one and all for my beautiful name, my beautiful frames (my glasses) and for how well I tolerated all of their torture devices. Ah, but when you suffer migraines it's easy to put up with the little shit. Then, the final touch - the pupil dilation. Fuck. Me.
I tried to go back to work, sunglasses upon my face, coworkers smirking, but christopete the pain was just unbearable. I went home and crawled into bed with a Phenergan. A few hours later I stumbled downstairs and took one of everything in my migraine arsenal. Go ahead, DEA. Cuff me! Stumbled back to bed. Jeff woke me for dinner, which I only barely managed. Back to bed. Pain all night. Dawn. More Phenergan, plus a Vicodin. Two hours later, hoorah! Marginal relief.
For about two hours. D'oh!
I spent most of my Saturday on the couch, trying to avoid the drugs (!) or stumbling around the house trying to playact the productive human being while groaning, moaning, grasping my head and holding up the walls. I finally retreated to the bathtub and went back to bed. I was defiant on Sunday and creatively medicated again, this time with better success, but I was a doped up whackadoodle for the rest of the day. I was able to recover maybe half of my Sunday and have a little bit of fun. Jeezopete, people. All of this - all of this pain and all of these blasted drugs I've had to put into my body just because some asshole wanted a better look at the back of my perfectly healthy eyeballs.
Next time those jerkwads come at me with those drops, they're gettin' a great bigNO!
So I'm back at work, headache-free and trying to motivate after a mostly unsatisfying weekend.
/bitchfest
And no, still no word on the move.
Really, I have nothing of interest to say, so feel free to skip the weekend bitchfest which follows:
I saw the opthalmologist on Friday so that the freckle on my iris could be examined. It used to be a nice, pretty dark brown spot. Now it's a diffuse brownish smudge. Since it's changed the optometrist said it should be looked at to rule out melanoma. Also, I was tut-tutted and shamed profusely for allowing 15 years to pass since my last pupil dilation.
But, having my pupils dilated will give me a massive migraine, I protest.
I was ignored.
They looked in the front and took pictures, they looked in the back and took pictures. They propped my eye open, filled it with methylcellulose and saline and did an ultrasound. They looked again. I was praised by one and all for my beautiful name, my beautiful frames (my glasses) and for how well I tolerated all of their torture devices. Ah, but when you suffer migraines it's easy to put up with the little shit. Then, the final touch - the pupil dilation. Fuck. Me.
I tried to go back to work, sunglasses upon my face, coworkers smirking, but christopete the pain was just unbearable. I went home and crawled into bed with a Phenergan. A few hours later I stumbled downstairs and took one of everything in my migraine arsenal. Go ahead, DEA. Cuff me! Stumbled back to bed. Jeff woke me for dinner, which I only barely managed. Back to bed. Pain all night. Dawn. More Phenergan, plus a Vicodin. Two hours later, hoorah! Marginal relief.
For about two hours. D'oh!
I spent most of my Saturday on the couch, trying to avoid the drugs (!) or stumbling around the house trying to playact the productive human being while groaning, moaning, grasping my head and holding up the walls. I finally retreated to the bathtub and went back to bed. I was defiant on Sunday and creatively medicated again, this time with better success, but I was a doped up whackadoodle for the rest of the day. I was able to recover maybe half of my Sunday and have a little bit of fun. Jeezopete, people. All of this - all of this pain and all of these blasted drugs I've had to put into my body just because some asshole wanted a better look at the back of my perfectly healthy eyeballs.
Next time those jerkwads come at me with those drops, they're gettin' a great big
So I'm back at work, headache-free and trying to motivate after a mostly unsatisfying weekend.
/bitchfest
And no, still no word on the move.
