Potato Eye

Like a lot of us, I got out of the habit of going to the doctor for regular check ups during the pandemic. Or maybe, like a lot of us, I just used the pandemic as a convenient excuse to stop going to the dentist twice a year.

But after a good friend had a brush with a treatable form of cancer, I got scared, both for her and for myself, and decided to go back to all the appointments I'd skipped, neglected, and failed to schedule because of Covid, starting with the eye doctor. I started with the eye doctor because I had a strange sort of lump on my upper eye lid. Maybe I had eyelid cancer? Or an eyelid tumor? Or eyelid-tumor- cancer? There was only one way to find out, so I made an appointment.

It did not go well.

As I sat in the eye doctor's chair, completely blind without my glasses or contacts, I could hear his disapproval as he looked at my chart.

"You have a minus ten prescription and yet you have not been here in three years?"

Now this why some of us skip doctor's appointments. We don't want to be lectured for all the times we didn't come. We want to be praised for the time we did come. He should have said, "Look at you, adulting like a boss! You drove miles out of your way at an inconvenient time to an out of the way place with inadequate parking, confusing signage, and crowded elevators to commit to preventative medicine. I'm so proud of you."

But he didn't. He lectured me, and I'm way too old for lectures.

I sat up a littler straighter in my chair and blinked my blind eyes. "My children see a pediatric ophthalmologist every year," I pointed out, hoping to earn points for my commitment to good optical health for my kids if not for myself.

"You can't go to the eye doctor by osmosis," he said. Then he made a disapproving noise and I think maybe even scowled at me, but I couldn't tell for sure because I couldn't see.

He wheeled his chair over and began to examine my eyes with that big machine and the little lenses that click back and forth.  "Which is better? One or two? Two or three."

When he finished that, he looked at my eyelid-cancer-tumor.

Then pushed optical machine away and gave me his prognosis.

“You have anunpronounceablewordnoonecanspell.”

He explained that the unproduceable word no one can spell is a medical term for clogged ducts, which create the little bumps on the edge of my eyelids. He said some people are prone to them, and lucky me, I am one of those people. 

I sank back in the examination chair, relieved that I did not have eyelid-cancer-tumors. Then he told me there is only one way to prevent these eyelid bumps from returning.

"Potatoes," he said gravely.

I squinted in the direction of his voice. "What?"

"Heat a potato very briefly in the microwave and then hold the warm potato to your eye. The heat from the potato will shrink the bump and reduce the swelling."

"How often?"

"Ten minutes, twice a day."

"For, like a week?"

"No. For the rest of your life."

I starred at him with my legally blind, minus ten prescription eyes.

"But..." I started to splutter. Surely he wasn't serious? "I don't have time to lay on the couch for ten minutes twice a day with a potato in my eye for the rest of my life."

He sighed. " You have to make time to come to the eye doctor when you have eyesight as bad as yours. And you have to make time to do this if you want to keep these bumps from coming back and harming your eyes."

"This is crazy."

He returned my glasses and I put them on. He gave me a small smile. "I also have clogged ducts." he said. "I do this twice a day. You can do it too."

"But I---"

"Don't have time?"

I shook my head. "I don't have time."

"Then you must make time for the important things. Like your eyes."

I began to feel I'd made an eye appointment with Yoda.
Do or do not. There is no try.

"You do not have to use a potato," he said gently. "You can buy an eye mask and heat it in the microwave. Perhaps you'd like that better."

I bought the eye mask. I made a follow up appointment and decided I liked my Yoda Eye Doctor. I try to do "potato eye," in the morning when the house is quiet. I never remember to do it at night, but I figure once every few days is better than never at all. 

It's kind of nice, lying on the family room couch with my eyes closed. Sometimes I ask Alexa to play classical music, and the soothing sounds wash over me in the quiet dark of the early day as I try very hard to make time for the important things.

What's important to you and how do you make time for it? Do you multi-task by listening to audio books while walking the dog? Or are you trying to make more room inside your head by doing less? And how do you define "important?" It's a loaded word, with different definitions for each of us. More on that later...

Till next time, thank you for reading and thanks for being important to me :-)

Take care,

Christine

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