He's Got Bette Davis Eyes

I'm not sure, but in the back of my mind I have this idea that my eye doctor has financed an entire addition to his home with my eyes. In fact I think he's looking to put a swimming pool in his back yard based upon the increasing number of times he has had me come back to see him this year. I've asked him why I need to keep having the same test done every time I see him. knowing that he can't do a thing to restore my vision, what's the point? Well, apparently the point is that he won't continue to see me if I don't take the tests and do the things he wants me to do. He didn't say it so many words, but I got the idea pretty quickly when he said, "Sure, you can do it your way, unless you would rather continue to do it the right way with me." So here I am once again doing things his way. His most recent 'request' is that I start taking a new eye drop. This is in addition to the eye drops that I've been taking for the last fifteen years. I agreed, and he called it in to Walgreens. After a bit more poking and prodding, I left the doctor's office and went to the pharmacy to pick up the prescription. First of all, it cost me $115. That is with the co-pay, $115. I didn't even bother to ask what it would be without the co-pay. I imagine it would rival the price of an ounce of gold. I took the eye drops home, opened up the little vial, and dutifully dripped one drop of the precious liquid in each eye. It was almost immediate. The pain, the burning, the feeling that one of the beasts from the Alien movie had bled into my eyes. It was as if I had dropped acid into each eye. For five minutes they burned, and they turned more bloodshot than they had ever been, including my pot smoking years. (That was how my mom could detect that I had been smoking pot back then, bright red, bloodshot eyes.) So I stumbled out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. "What's wrong with you?" Mark asked, "Are you crying?"  And it was right then that I realized what I had on my hands. I had the perfect excuse for when I'm watching a sad movie or one of those chick flicks and I start sobbing. Instead of being embarrassed that a movie made me cry, I'll just make a quick trip into the bathroom and return mumbling something about those damn eye drops.