The Eye-Closed Talking Doctor

I’ve been complaining for the past three weeks about the plague that’s over-taken our lovely square-shaped abode.

The boy kicked things off with a stellar four-day 103-temperature caused by a lovely viral infection.

I quickly followed by becoming victim #2.

I’ll save you the details and leave you with the knowledge that my wife is a freakin’ saint for having to deal with sick me.

Then…the girl caught it.

Envision Gary Coleman stuck in quicksand, wearing a straight jacket, while saying the ABCs backwards and trying his hardest to take steroids away from Hulk Hogan. That’s what my daughter’s immune system is like trying to fight any sickness.

For five days she’s been dealing with a fever, pink eye in both eyes, and yesterday morning…puking.

So, yesterday afternoon we decided enough’s enough and that’s when we took her to the doctor.

I’m a bit of a germ freak…for the main reason that I don’t want to get sick. So walking into a pediatrician’s office is like asking me to lick just one ball from a Chuck-E-Cheese ball pit.

My visits usually start with me walking in holding all the door handles so my already sick daughter doesn’t – stupid, I know.

I walk up to the counter and immediately locate and use the hand sanitizer thingy.

I then sign in and get another squirt after putting the pen down.

This is followed by me having to pick the pen back up to sign my co-pay receipt which is quickly followed by another sanitizing squirt.

I’m exhausted just writing this.

We make it back to the waiting room and that’s when the doctor rolls in.

Completely ignoring me he walks up to my daughter and asks her what’s been wrong. Knowing damn well my six-year-old shy-as-hell daughter wasn’t going to give him the blow-by-blow of her illness I chimed in.

He looks her over, does some kid-friendly stuff to get her to cooperate, then gets on the computer to log-in the diagnosis while we wait.

That’s when it happens.

The man turns to me, looks me in the eyes for a split second, closes his eyes and proceeds to explain to me his diagnosis of my daughter’s current condition without opening his eyes again.

I’m sitting there all “is this guy for real? Is this a joke? Should I wave my hand in front of his eyes to see if maybe he’s just got lazy eyelids? Should I look at my daughter and ask her if she’s watching this freaky shit go down too? Should I kindly reach out and thump him in the forehead? Is he broken?”

I was overwhelmed with what was happening right before my eyes!

He was an eye-closing talker.

People who close their eyes for extended periods of time while talking to you scare the shit out of me.

As do:

• The person that looks ever-so-slightly above your head and to the left as they’re talking to you. It freaks me the hell out! Do they see dead people behind me?
• The cold limp handshake giver. That will seriously get you throat-punched.
• The mumbler. Nothing more needs to be said.
• The crowder. I need my space damn it. Respect it.  Just because we’re sharing words doesn’t mean I want you to see, smell and almost taste what you had for lunch.
• The pontificator. The guy who talks to you with his hands behind his back the entire time. Why? It’s not even comfortable…not since you were in the third grade!
• And of course the antithesis of the eye-closing talker…the starer. Every conversation to this person is a staring contest. When you look away just so you can freakin’ blink again you expect this person so scream “I WIN!!”

Finally, the eye-closed talking doctor opened his eyes scaring the ever loving shit out of me because I was leaning so far forward trying to figure him out.

Fumbling around gathering my daughter and my things I thanked him and left in a huge rush, even forgoing the hand sanitizing as I leave ritual.

Walking to the car in the parking lot I got the wife on the phone.

Wife: “So, what’s wrong with her?”

Me: “The doctor closes his eyes when he speaks, honey.”

Wife: “What ?”

Me: “Yeah…I got the doctor who keeps his eyes closed the ENTIRE time he’s talking to you. Do you realize how insanely freaky that is to me? Have you seen this guy?”

Wife: “Wow…really? Seriously? Can you not just tell me what is wrong with our daughter?”

Me: “Oh shit.”

Wife: “What? Where’s Macy? Did you leave her in there?”

Me: “No, I have her right here but I was so busy obsessing about the eye-closed talking doctor that I didn’t hear anything he said.”

I quickly concluded that since I didn’t walk out with any prescriptions it must be a viral infection. Genius…I know.

I also concluded that not only do I hope to never come in contact with freaky eye-closed talking doctor again…but I’m definitely going to be him for this Halloween.



Top 10 Things I Freakishly Enjoy

Yesterday I pulled up to the gas station to piss away even more money to “the man.” I did my usual dumping of my car garbage, then grabbed the squeegee and started cleaning my windows.

Completely soaked in 22-day-old non-soapy water, my windows were ready to be squeegeed off. As I slowly pulled that first line of water off I felt the day’s tenseness go away. The second line I felt even more relaxed. By the time the entire windshield was done I felt like a badass and the entire day’s insanity slip away!

OK, not that good, but damn it was a weird spooky kind of relief.

I got back in the car completely freaked out by myself and thought, “that’s just one of those uncommon satisfying things in life that you just kinda secretly enjoy.”

So what are 10 other weird and spooky things that satisfy which I probably shouldn’t reveal?

1) Wiping down the bathroom sink so it’s absolutely spotless. Little dinky hairs, puddles of water, toothpaste globs, boogers…you name it. They collect in the most bizarre places of the sink. Taking my wet hand and cleaning it down is therapeutic in a freaky way.

2) Armor Alling my car dashboard. Seriously…when it’s done and the smell is in the car…I just want to put Led Zeppelin Physical Graffitti in the CD player, go for a ride with the windows down and blare the hell out of the radio.

3) Lawn dances. I won’t lie…I love them. Give me a wedding, eight beers, a shot of Jager, a good song and a dance floor and I’m in heaven. I’ll be doing the “lawn mower” and “weed eater” all night.

4) Speaking of weed-eating…creating perfectly trimmed grass along sidewalks and boarders makes me literally need to take a cold shower afterwards. It’s lawn maintenance porn.

5) Crossing the finish line of a half-marathon race. It’s indescribable. You’re happy, elated, sick, exhausted, motivated, and humbled all at once.

6) Turning my fan to the number 3 setting and sliding my dumb-ass into bed.

7) After 12 minutes of digging, cutting, digging deeper, and almost giving up, finally pulling that damn splinter from your body.

8) Holy shit do I love corn on the cob. The greatest thing ever invented. But damn those stringy annoying thingies that jam ever so strategically in-between your teeth! So when a toothpick slides one of those out from in-between my fucked-up teeth it’s so amazing!

9) Sliding a key along the spine of a new music CD to cut the cellophane that wraps it. Pulling it off, opening the case and the smell that tickles your nose of the freshly printed CD jacket and all the awesomeness it holds.

10) Clipping that annoying toenail. You know…the one that sticks out ever-so-slightly so that it rubs against the toe next to it and makes you want to rip someone’s head off?! Yeah…smoothing that bad-boy out is so freakin’ awesome!

That’s it for today’s freak-show. That’s just a few of my weirdness that is o-so-satisfying in a “daddy, you’re weird!!!” kinda way.

What’s yours?!!! Leave a comment.