Smarmy tam-bram ophthalmologist (with a Thengalai Naamam* covering almost a third of his face, increasing my discomfiture and adding to the bizarreness of the situation enormously): Oh, I’m just going to inject this local anesthetic into your eyelid and your left temple. It won’t hurt at all. Just a little prick which will last for well, a minute and a half. That’s about it. And besides I don’t like to keep pretty ladies at unease for long, at least when I’m around, if you know what I mean. Hehehehehe.
[Insert shifty leer and an ingratiating simper/throaty chuckle]
Me, lying on a rubber mattress thingamajig, wearing a large, shapeless hospital shift cum mumu monstrosity (in pepto bismol pink, to make matters much much worse) and nothing else: A minute and a HALF??? Ohshitohshitohshitohshit…..
Smarmy ophthalmologist in a saccharine, puke inducing tone: Aww, I’ll hold your hand! Will that make the pretty lady feel better?
[After which he proceeds to grab my hand without waiting for an answer, knowing fully well that I would have vehemently refused]
Me: Just inject goddammit! I want this to be over and done with.
Err..ha ha…(nervous laughter).
After which he proceeds to jab the needle into my temple, and for several painstakingly LONG seconds which felt like years, he takes it out and squeezes my hand with his clammy, horrible hand (once again) and exclaims,
There! You have been good. So good. Now on to the eye lid, this will only be marginally more painful. Hehehehe.
Me (fighting down the bile which threatens to flood my throat and turn to puke): Please. Just get on with it.
Smarmy Ophthalmologist: Oh but we mustn’t hurry these things [insert shifty leer]. When I am around it becomes my paramount duty to make you feel comfortable, you hear? So no protests sweetie!
At this point the bile actually floods my throat but his holy smarminess picks this opportune moment to stab my eyelid with the needle. The shock and the pain momentarily confounds me, which in retrospect was actually a good thing as I would have puked all over his overly sterilized floor and he would have jumped at this golden opportunity to lay his hands on me (dear god)** in the name of offering ‘help’. And I don’t want to give him that cheap satisfaction.
Alright, on to the actual operation aka the saga of the defenseless punkster and the horrific eyelid squisher. The extremely powerful anesthetic for which I put up with excruciating pain and his mealy-mouthed clamminess turned out to be utterly.fucking.useless. And to make matters much MUCH worse, the super sensitive doctor who specialized in making people oh-so-comfortable actually exclaimed loudly to the nurse,
“Nurse, can you pass me the super fine blade, please? I need to slice this baby up. Hehehehe.”
And then he proceeds to turn my eyelid over (YES, you heard me!) and slice off a piece of flesh, all in a matter of seconds. I yelled out in pain, and he actually had the gall to say that I had no business reacting as the anesthetic should be kicking in. With sadistic pleasure he proceeds to pluck, pull, slice and nick the flesh under my eyelid, simpering (argh) horribly all the darn while. I bore every tug of skin, every nick and every scoop of eyelid- flesh in insufferable agony and I could actually see the shiny, razor sharp instruments being used on me. At least if he was cute in a Patrick Dempsey-ish: He’s a character from Grey’s Anatomy for those of you living under a rock, kinda way I wouldn’t even NEED anesthetic, thank you very much. Every time he sliced my eyelid flesh I would immediately grab his perfectly chiseled arm and look into his sapphire blue eyes imploringly and then he would squeeze my hand and not let go…… and OK, Ill stop my McDreamy-and-me-in-nothing-but-a-hospital-robe-fantasy right there.
Sigh, back to reality. Once the surgery was finally over and half my face was successfully swathed in white bandages and tape, his holy smarminess exclaims,
“Now that I have saved you, how about showing me your gratitude with a cup of coffee and I’ll let YOU pay. How’s that?”
I wanted to fling the tray of surgical instruments at him, but I exercised supreme control and tried to politely decline his ‘invitation’ while ignoring the fact that Mr. smarmy perv had fixed his icky gaze on my chest, and was actually talking.to.my.bosom (Ahem).
That was it. I bolted without even bothering to get a prescription. All I wanted was to get out of that blasted hospital and get away from his holy pervy smarminess, as fast as possible.
Oh, and eye surgery recovery and other horrific circumstances prevented me from posting. I guess I owe my readers (of what I have left) and all the super nice folks who inquired about my well-being an apology for not posting sooner.
Thanks y’all for asking! Sniff!
* I have nothing against Thengalai Iyengars. So dumbass comments like ‘why are you insulting Thengalai Brahmins yadda yadda’ will be put up for public humiliation, or better still; ignored.
** Yes, I have indulged in excessive bracket usage in this post. So, bite me.