Red in Tooth and...Eye?
What the shit, y’all. How fucking TYPICAL OF ME is this? So I have a job for two and a half years. Said job gives me full and totally awesome health coverage (which is just about the only thing it gives me, but that’s another story for another day). How many times do I have to go to the doctor in those two and a half years? NONE. NONE TIMES. (Except for my contact prescription, which I’m not counting because it’s more of a maintenance thing than an acute condition.) Anyway, so I land a new, exponentially better job in a new, exponentially better city, and I have six weeks before my health insurance kicks in-fairly standard, nothing to see here. BUT. This is me we’re talking about, so guess when I have to go see a doctor for the first time in three years? Yes, that’s right. This weekend, I came down with a really bad case of-wait for it-pinkeye. PINKEYE, PEOPLE. How much lamer can I get? Why can’t I at least get sick with something that other grown-up people get?*
Anyway, I found a CVS Minute Clinic nearby (and hi, these things totally rock, because I hate going to the doctor, but I was in and out with a prescription in half an hour on a Sunday morning, and it only cost sixty bucks, which, while not ideal, is considerably better than it might have been (see: uninsured)), and I managed to wrangle generic antibiotic eyedrops from Wal-Mart for only four dollars, so it wasn’t completely FUBAR. I guess I could have, like, appendicitis, or something else that would be prohibitively expensive (check me out, looking on the bright side!), so I got off pretty easy, all things considered. (Although I should maybe shut up now, because I have another month to go.) Mostly I’m just pissed off on principle, because a) I have, as ever, really shitty timing, and b) conjunctivitis is about the most punkass infection you can contract after you’ve reached the age of legal majority.
*I called my mom to give her this most recent news, and her response, verbatim: “Megan. Adults do not get pinkeye. What the hell is your problem.” I don’t know, mother-I really don’t know. (Yes, the women of my family are known far and wide for our tender, compassionate hearts-we’re like giant custards with legs. Hence my initial reaction to Vavoom telling me she had shingles: “Shingles? What are you, EIGHTY?”)
Anyway, I found a CVS Minute Clinic nearby (and hi, these things totally rock, because I hate going to the doctor, but I was in and out with a prescription in half an hour on a Sunday morning, and it only cost sixty bucks, which, while not ideal, is considerably better than it might have been (see: uninsured)), and I managed to wrangle generic antibiotic eyedrops from Wal-Mart for only four dollars, so it wasn’t completely FUBAR. I guess I could have, like, appendicitis, or something else that would be prohibitively expensive (check me out, looking on the bright side!), so I got off pretty easy, all things considered. (Although I should maybe shut up now, because I have another month to go.) Mostly I’m just pissed off on principle, because a) I have, as ever, really shitty timing, and b) conjunctivitis is about the most punkass infection you can contract after you’ve reached the age of legal majority.
*I called my mom to give her this most recent news, and her response, verbatim: “Megan. Adults do not get pinkeye. What the hell is your problem.” I don’t know, mother-I really don’t know. (Yes, the women of my family are known far and wide for our tender, compassionate hearts-we’re like giant custards with legs. Hence my initial reaction to Vavoom telling me she had shingles: “Shingles? What are you, EIGHTY?”)