I May Need a New Eye Doctor

I'm sick.

I got all cocky, reading on Facebook and hearing around church, etc., how everyone had been sick.  But I hadn't been sick.  No one in my house had been sick.  Good karma was with the Funk family and since I don't hear about sickness quite so much I thought we were in the clear.

But I'm sick.

Luckily, it isn't that horrible, nasty stomach virus that has been making the rounds.  No vomit here.  But my cockiness was overtaken little by little this afternoon at work as a little throat tickle morphed into a nasty cough.

The kind that makes your chest kinda hurt.

The kind that keeps you awake at night.  I hate that.

But as the evening wears on and the cough gets progressively worse, now I am getting that fuzzy head feeling.  You know, when everything is a little bit swirly and you aren't quite sure if you are awake or asleep.  And if you get up to walk, it is with slow and steady steps lest you trip over that little string on the floor in your clouded-head haze.

What?  No?   Just me?  Darn.  Don't tell anyone.

And I'm not even medicated.  Yet.

I was planning to do my taxes tonight.  That will have to wait.   I'm not altogether sure that I can read the numbers on my form.

And speaking of reading numbers, I was recently insulted by my eye doctor.  I went in for an annual exam, and he went about his routine ("which is better? 1?  or 2?) and then rolled back in his little optometrist stool and crossed his arms across his chest.

"You have dry eyes.  Mostly the left one.  You should use drops.  And maybe wear your contacts less."

"What?"  I was a little put out.  "Doctor, I've been wearing contacts since I was 14, and for long days and I've never, NEVER, had a problem with dry eyes.  What's up with that?!?"

Now this hurt:  "Mrs. Funk.  You are . . . um . . . well . . . you see . . . it's just that  . . . as the eyes age . . ."

Ouch.  Not cool Mr. Eye Doctor.

Followed by this:

"Are you using reading glasses yet?" asked my no-longer-beloved eye doctor.

"Are you kidding?  No!  Certainly not.  No."

Now this hurt even more.  "Well . . . uh . . . Mrs. Funk . . . well . . . you should."

Crap.  Double crap on a cracker.  I've been having so much fun making fun of my brother Calvin and friends Joe and Nanette that it never occurred to me I might need them someday too. 

And one more thing to add insult to injury:  When I told this little story to my friend Nanette, she laughed out loud for a full minute.  But just to get even for her hurting my feelings a little bit, know this - she is older than me.  Ha!