Before I get to the good news that I'm not dying, let me first apologize for teasing ya'll with this wonderfully sick story that I was supposed to tell you after Thanksgiving, because as it turns out, I'm not gonna tell it. I realized that I've burned up my quota of stories here that are going to be in my book and need to respect my deal with my publisher. I want the book to have 90 percent new stuff, as I know you do too, so since the story I was going to tell you about this dream I had is going to be in the book, alas, I won't tell it now and you'll have to read it in May when the book comes out... which is going to fucking rock stupid large. Yeah, that's how I roll even though I'm ancient, home piece. Just so the math is clear, 10 percent of the book will be stories that I've told here and the rest will be all new stuff you haven't seen, but fear not, I will not let you down my awesome readers, you will get only the best of my perfectly bizarre life in these pages over the coming months, I promise. I mean tons I've written here so far is not in the book and for your eyes only, so there you have it. So, with business out of the way let me get to it...

I'd been having headaches for three weeks. They started with a migraine after yoga in early November, which is not so out of the ordinary since I get them once in a while. But then every day after, I had these very low level headaches that would come and go with no regularity or reason. They weren't very painful and were I not a hypochondriac I wouldn't have thought much about them. But I am a hypochondriac and so I got progressively freaked out as the days passed and the headaches weren't going away.

I was convinced I had brain tumors and would be told I had months to live. I mean I... was... convinced. I was a dead man. I laid in bed and cried, praying to God that he would let me live. No shit. The idea that I didn't have 60 years left but 6 months freaked the living shit out of me. I went to my doctor and he did all the tests on me, you know the sophisticated ones we've discussed, touching your nose with your index finger with your eyes closed. Walking heel-to-toe in a straight line... WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS!!!! I do this at home every cunting day!!!!! I passed all the tests and he said I definitely did not have a brain tumor. I begged him to do an MRI and CAT scan on me but he wouldn't citing, you know, the radiation and all? Since I didn't have any brain tumor symptoms, (even my headaches weren't because of their nature) he said I should wait at least a couple more weeks and see if they went away.

I tried acupuncture and got a deep tissue massage. The headaches didn't go away. I was calling MRI places myself to see if I could just kinda go in and order one up like a cheeseburger but they said I needed a note from my doctor. In the back of my mind I thought of one last idea to solve the problem before resorting to a full body scan...

This is the part of the story when all of you who wear glasses will want to bitch slap me for getting you concerned about me when the problem was so obvious... sorry, it wasn't a setup. This is really how my mind works.

My eyes were a little blurry 4 years ago. Since I've always had impeccable eye sight I was sure it was my new vegan diet or some illness, brain tumor, whatever. I went to the eye doctor on a lark. He put some evil blurry eye drops in my eyes and showed me a million charts, "Better worse the same?" Change. "Better worse the same." Change. "Better worse the same."

He was very perfunctory. He scribbled a on a prescription pad, tore the page off and handed it to me.

"What's that?"

"You're prescription."

"I need pills for this condition?" I was dead serious. He cracked a smile, thinking I was joking.

"You have a slight astigmatism and you're farsighted." Now I was the one who thought he was joking.

"Who is?"

"You are."

"No, no, no. I have perfect eye sight."

"How old are you?"

"40."

"Yup. That's when it happens."

That's when it happens? That's when it happens? That's when what happens you cunting fuck basket?!! When my body starts falling apart like a fucking cockless cunt!!!!!!

I was beside myself.

"So. I need ggglasses?" I could barely choke the word out.

"Yeah. Come back next year for a check up. Take care." And with that he, my manhood and my youth left the room.

I was mortified. I left his office and stumbled haplessly up Madison Avenue trying to get home. I was blind and on the East Side. Hell. I hailed a cab and took it straight to the Cohen Optical Store on 96th and Broadway to fill this... this... prescription right away so that when the drops wore off and I could see again I could test his outlandish hypothesis and see if my sight was indeed better with glasses. I waited for "about an hour" and (having picked out the cheapest peach colored Charles Nelson Riley frames since I was never gonna wear the fucks whether they worked or not, this was just a test) got my glasses handed to me as the drops faded and I could see again. I took the glasses out on to the street. It was cold and dark. I put them on and looked at the Duane Reade sign across Broadway convinced I had just wasted 68 bucks but was willing to pay that small price to cuckold the quack eye doctor and this ridiculous assertion that these things were my solution. I slowly lowered them over my eyes and...

To be continued...

Posted by Eric Schaeffer at 1:25 AM

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