My left eye is a slut.

I can't believe I'm not saving this for a "16 Random Things About Me" meme on Facebook, but I have the dubious distinction of having sustained blunt force trauma in my left eye due to getting smacked in the face with a field hockey stick while a freshman in college. I went out for my college's team after loving the sport in high school and someone's backswing hit me in the eye. I was in the hospital for a week with a hyphema (I'm sure WebMD can tell you all about it...) and luckily I suffered no lasting effects except an increased likelihood of getting various nasty things like cataracts and glaucoma.

But understandably, should I ever have any difficulties with that particular eye, I get a little nervous.

Last week, I started to have some problems with my eye. My left eye. They got worse, then a little better, then came back, and after a very unsatisfactory encounter with one of those scheduling "gatekeepers" (No, I don't want to drive 45 minutes into West Philly when the office I've always gone to is five minutes from my house. No, I don't really care what your policy on "emergencies" is. Can you spell your last name for me? So that when I sue your employer for making me drive 45 minutes instead of 5 WITH A BUM EYE so that I die in a twisting wreck of grinding car parts my heirs spell it right on the complaint?)

A smart person suggested that I just go to the office five minutes from my house and ask them to schedule me an appointment, offering to wait. This sounded like a good idea, and lo and behold, it worked. It helped that I uttered what are the opthamological magic words (they are "I'm seing a halo around lights", in case you ever need them; the receptionist kept repeating in a hushed tone, "That's retinal"). I did have to suffer through an hour of Rachael Ray in the waiting room (there's a reason they call her followers "Raytards") and twenty minutes of The View (if Dr. Phil came on, I would have turned off the teevee. Or beat it with a sledgehammer.).

The diagnosis? Optical herpes. (I knew I should never have allowed that truck driver to put his blister-covered penis into my eye!) No, it's not the sexually-transmitted kind, it's the cold sore kind. I figured it must be serious because I am charged with using antiviral eyedrops 7 times a day, and I have a follow-up appointment on Friday and another next week. Also, did I mention my eye hurts?

So once again, I must ask your forbearance if I get a little behinder.