My Eyeballs
By Morrisa Sherman
My Eyes were examined today. The optometrist placed my face into numerous
devices with all sorts of impressive mechanical arms and lenses, but the
one that I found most interesting was a horrid thing that puffed a
little shock of air against the eye to test the pressure of the humors
inside the eye. Most unpleasant machine; the poor patient optometrist
had to try several times before I'd keep my eyes from involuntarily
screwing shut against the tiny blast. Whenever a doctor does something
unpleasant to me, he better damn well explain why to my satisfaction, so
I now know a fair amount about this machine. Apparantly it gives a
computer readout that measures the degree to which the air can press
into the surface. If the pressure in the eye is too high, you may be
showing some swelling symptom of some desease. It's good if it registers
some flattening. "But what happens if my eyeballs are flat? What if I've
sprung a slow leak?" I asked. "Oh, those are real easy to fix with this
eyeball kit, but if you don't carry a lug wrench and a jack for
eyeball removal, you could be in trouble," he responded.
Mariners fled Tori's shaman.
Copyright © 1992, Morrisa Stanfield Sherman.
This work may not be reproduced in any form without the author's explicit permission
