One of the subjects we touched on was the senseless things that kids say that they seem to understand – that have meaning for them. And that is not new to this generation. It’s been going on as long as I have been listening.
One of the things my father would say when frustrated with a delay in doing something he wanted done right now was, “I am tired of fiddle farting around.” One must wonder what a violinist with gastric problems has to do with my father’s impatience. It made no sense. But I knew exactly what he meant. If some progress was not made soon, a gassy violinist would be the least of our worries. Dad was going to lose it and that was always an ugly scene.
One of the things I experienced yesterday reminded me of a phrase we would repeat as children to prove the veracity of something we had said or had claimed to have done. If someone doubted our truthfulness we would say, “Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.” No one doubted anything I said yesterday. At least, they never said they did. But this phrase did come up.
Yesterday wasn’t just a road trip because Dean and I were bored or because Iowa City holds such an attraction for us. I had an appointment at the University of Iowa Eye clinic.
You need to know that I was a perfect patient. I was honest and forthright in all I said and did. No one doubted a word I said. I was friendly and obedient. I was on time for the appointment (almost). I obediently gave them my $25 copay. I picked up my paperwork and reported immediately, as instructed, to waiting area C to await my turn. When asked, I answered the same questions they asked me last time I was there just over a month ago. Without a word of complaint I allowed them to put all kinds of drops in my eyes to numb them and to dilate them. This was 2:00 in the afternoon. When I looked in the mirror at midnight my eyes still looked as if I had ingested large quantities of illegal substances. I obediently suffered through the exact same round of tests done just over four weeks ago. A different doctor than the one I had last month leaned me back in the examining chair, placed his knee in my chest, shown a painfully bright light in my eyes as he squeezed my eyeball and checked for eye damage. I was very docile and compliant through the examination but was fairly sure that by the time he got done there would be some obvious signs of damage to my eyes.
I say all of that to make it clear I was a model patient. They all loved me. So, one might wonder, where am I going with this? As good as I was, as honest and kind; they ended my stay with them by STICKING A NEEDLE IN MY EYE. Can you believe that? A needle. In my eye. My eye. A needle.
Don’t believe me. Well, all I can say is, “Cross my heart and hope to die.” But don’t you dare stick a needle in my eye. Been there. Done that. Got the T-shirt.
Copyright © 2012, William T. McConnell, All Rights Reserved
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