Lasered

This morning (Monday, October 8, 2007) I was to make an eye-appointment, a follow-up of an eye-exam last May.
During last May’s eye-exam, they noticed a retinal scar, or tear, that had been there, in my left eye, for some time; 10-20 years.
It had been noticed years ago at biannual eye-exams of the HMO we were going to at that time.
But the eye-doctor always poo-pooed it; “nothing major,” he said. “Everything seems normal; kapiche?”
So I never paid much attention to it — except to point out an examiner would see it — e.g. thems at Canandaigua Eye-Center, where I went instead of the old HMO.
They went ballistic. “You should have that looked at, maybe even laser-welded,” they said. “We’ll set you up to see our ophthalmologist.”
Months passed. “If you ever see flashes, or more floaters; contact us immediately.”
Nothing ever happened the whole time; I have a slighter floater in my left eye, but it doesn’t obscure anything. I’ve probably had it for years, with no change.
The appointment was at 8 a.m., which meant rolling out at 5 a.m. — dreadfully early for us old folks. But “dreadfully early” only in that it scotched attending the vaunted Canandaigua YMCA after the appointment.
The ophthalmologist, one Heidi Piper, is a Houghton-grad.
“I see you are a Houghton-grad,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Class of 1966, “ I said.
“That place sure has changed..........”
“Yep,” I said; “and our class was part of the reason why. They used to be terrible, but after us, they gave up.”
“I suppose when you were there, they had that fabulous new Science Building,” I said.
“If that had been around when I was there, I might have stuck with Physics.”
“So what did you graduate with?”
“History,” I said. “That’s where all the good profs were.”
“I have never regretted going there. I just gave them $1,000.”
“I didn’t end up like they wanted, but I don’t care a bit.”
Houghton-grad examined the scar and said “I’m surprised you haven’t already had retinal separation. You should have that laser-welded. In-and-out in 15 minutes. Go about your business as if nothing happened. You’ll feel a slight stinging when I do it, but I’m sure you can handle it.”
“So what you’re asking is whether I want this?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Well I would be so inclined. Let ‘er rip!”
I was hiked into the laser-room, and the tear was laser-welded.
“This is gonna hurt,” she said. “I left the most painful part for last. I’m welding right on top of a nerve.”
BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!
My pupils (I was a pupil once at Erlton School) had been dilated, of course, so I had to wear my so-called disco sunglasses when I went out.
“Come back in about six weeks so we can make sure the laser-welding went as intended,” she said.
“Co-pay $10,” the receptionist said; “do you need a receipt?”
“Before I go, my sunglasses have a stripped screw, or the part that it threads into is stripped; and I’ve had the screw out, but it’s awful hard to get such a tiny screw back in place for us old folks,” I said.
“I have everything together, and it has been for months, but I need to know whether I should replace these frames?”
The receptionist put me on the eye-glasses list, and after about five minutes I explained the whole kabosh to a technician who took my sunglasses and replaced the screw.
I’m left with a sore left eye — slightly sore.
“You sure are tough, Mr. Hughes,” the ophthalmologist said.
“Yep, I had a stroke,” I said. “People always ask how I managed to survive a stroke so well.”
“Ornery,” I say.

“Houghton” is Houghton College, from where I graduated with a BA in 1966. I’ve never regretted it. Houghton is a religious college.

“Erlton School” is the elementary-school I attended in Erlton, south Jersey, the small suburb (of Philadelphia) we lived in when I was a child.

RE: “so-called disco sunglasses.....” All my siblings accuse me of having poor taste.

I had a stroke October 26, 1993.