Llanor Alleyne
Writer | Editor | Artist
Today I went in for a second round of eye exams. Three hours later, my eyes dilated to twice their size, I see Dr. P through a teary blur, but his teeth are dazzling and smiling.
“The nerve behind your right eye is much larger than the one behind your left, but I can happily say it’s not glaucoma.”
Long pause from me.
“That is good news, you know,” Dr. P says.
I’m so relieved that I can’t move my facial muscles. so relieved that I’m speechless. Just so damn relieved.
And in all of that relief, I find space to think of Dr. R–the doctor who so gravely told me he thinks I have glaucoma last week–as just a touch wicked; a torturer, for this entire past week has been a mental sailor’s knot for me.
And I hear myself say to Dr. P: Tell Dr R to chill out.
Dr P gets it and says something snarky that he quickly takes back as a joke.
I still have the eyelid infection to deal with and my vision is wonky because of it, but no where near the blinding consequences of glaucoma.
I’m relieved and thankful.