My Diet Coke has a nifty new label on it - if you're judging by the fact that previous cans I've gotten out of the singular and particular vending machine located at the Brevard Music Festival Camp(us) have had Christmas themes. (As you may have noted, it's June 22nd).
It says, simply: "Live Positively".
Well, technically, first there is a picture of a cup of Coke. Followed by a man in the midst of a mad dash, presumably - for that Coke. Last, a bottle of Coke is depicted - well, we're assuming now, it could be a bottle of anything - followed by the slogan, and the Coca Cola logo. However, there it is - a brief message from your friendly Coca Cola company, telling you to Live Positively.
Honey, there are a lot of things you can be "positive" about, and not all of them are fun to er... live with.
... let's pretend that I didn't make an STD/AIDs reference, shall we?
In any case, take last Wednesday night - there was a small lump under my right eye for a few weeks, and I had no idea what it was. It really didn't draw any attention as it was nothing more than a... lump... and I just assumed that someone had, oh, punched me in the eye a while back and I just hadn't noticed. However, just to be sure, I brought my mom on the case.
Cue concern and indignation that I had not addressed this issue days, weeks, months, YEARS ago. (How could I not have predicted this and alerted her and other medical personnel in advance? [grin]) Next thing we know, she's on her laptop, looking up symptoms and asking if I had any STD's, because, well, she's "positive" that it's no ordinary, hot-compress-can-take-it-away lump.
... and... I'm positive that I really don't want to see a doctor about a seemingly trivial lump the day before I head down South for the summer, but that's exactly what I did.
Move to Thursday afternoon, I'm in the eye doctor's examination chair, and after about 2 seconds, he's positive that it's a sty. (ain't Google fun?) And... not only that... he's positive that it's the biggest sty that they - the men and women of the optometrists' world - have seen in a long time.
Well, three cheers and a cupcake for that!
... which leads us to his dictation of my options: I can either "try" to use hot compresses to break it down (he's positive that won't do a darned thing), or they can just, oh, cut it out, right then and there.
.... EEEEHHHH?!
Cue my automatic panic response: "Can... we... call... my ... mom... and... ask... her...?!"
Dr. L is a concise man, and barely 30 seconds into the conversation with my mom, having explained the situation quite nicely, and having her blessing to stick a few needles and a scalpel into my eye, he wraps up the conversation before she can ask to talk to me and assure me that after 10 seconds of me shaking and freaking out silently, I won't be able to feel a thing and the rest of the procedure will just be honky-dorry.
... at this point, watching him hang up, I am *positive* that I want nothing more than to run like a mad man out of that room and away from those needles. I've never really had a phobia about the pointy things, but there is holding-your-mom's-hand-during-your-checkup-scared, and then there is positively-out-of-my-mind-all-alone-you-have-three-needles-poised-for-entry-in-your-hand-OH-MY-GOOD-SWEET-MOTHER-OF-GOD-scared.
Let us just say that there are nail marks in that chair's arm-rests that will not be coming out any time soon.
Live positively, Diet Coke? ... Choose your answer wisely.
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1 comment:
Please try to remain in one piece until I get the chance to see you again. Because if I suddenly have an eyeless cousin, that would be, uh...
awkward.
"Hi Chris!"
"Hi Dani, how arWHOA...err...I'm just gonna, you know, go over there. Or something. BYE."
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