|The BRILLIANT Marty Feldman as "Igor"!|
“MMMMHHHH!” I groaned with every heavily leaden footstep ala Peter Boyle as “The Monster” in the classic black and white 1974 film Young Frankenstein. “MMMMHHHH!” I plodded painfully slow in my motorcycle boots with arms outstretched toward the comfort of my welcoming sound stage, clasping the hand railing as I lumbered up three whole steps.
“Pen-nay! I need you to be Her until She arrives!” my AD shouted, as I rounded the corner with yet one more “MMMMHHHH!”
Now, I don’t know precisely what I did to myself, but for the last week or so since I worked on a television pilot, I’ve been experiencing some excruciating pain in my left heel. And thumping my way at lunchtime to the Medical Department on my regular studio lot, I presented my symptoms to two completely baffled nurses.
“Did you hurt yourself recently?” one of them asked as I leaned back thoughtfully and took some personal inventory:
Well, I had been up for the role of a computer Voice Over that was eventually given to someone else, so I was certainly suffering from a bruised ego…
And then there was the unfortunate entrance from a staircase, which by the brilliant aesthetic creativeness of the Set Design Department included a blind step off of a landing into the ‘sunken’ living room that had tripped most of my Second Teamers up and down, our Director up the steps, and me as well; landing inelegantly in a full-on knee-plant flailing to keep my chin from hitting the floor by grabbing onto the back of the couch. (Not terribly graceful, but resulted in only some grossly purple/blue/greenly bruising of both of my knees.) And requiring some humiliating assistance to get myself back upright to finish the scene, again, really only a wounded ego…
“Nope” I eventually confirmed to the perplexed medics. “And I took two Ibuprofens at 12:35pm which had absolutely no effect” I informed them.
“Hmmm… well, take two more in four hours, and buy yourself a tube of Arnica” one nurse piped up. “It’s excellent for deep-tissue bruising, if that’s what you have?” she offered cheerfully.
FYI, should you find yourself suffering from “plantar fasciitis” as “diagnosed” (I use the term loosely) by many of my co-workers who have also suffered foot pain, I suggest you forget the homeopathic Arnica and go straight to the moderately more effective (albeit stinky) topical “Icy Hot” followed by a couple of hearty cocktails. (Seriously, three voddies and I was GOLDEN!)
Depositing a few paychecks and discovering that my account balance had essentially doubled overnight, I nearly tap-danced out of the bank the next day.
OOH! I could work on some more body parts with my e-filed tax rebates!
Now, to be honest, I don’t think I’ve had correct vision for many years…
And subjecting myself to every possible examination on the planet, I was analyzed by the Doctor’s Assistant “Igor” (OK, so she didn’t actually have a hump back, but that’s neither here or there); was blissfully pointed to a variety of different colored chairs in my ongoing blindness; endured the glaucoma ocular air puff (about twelve times since despite the polite countdown, I couldn’t stop blinking); was checked by another machine and was told that my blood pressure is moderately high (well, STOP PUFFING AIR IN MY FACE!); was given two separate tries at my depth of field perception – one on the computer, one with lenses and a hand-held pad; passed the color-blindness test; attempted to focus on what they tell me is a “farmhouse”; had my retinas scanned by a terrifyingly large computer apparatus whilst my head was being hand-held and maneuvered into position with my nose pressed against the machine; and despite my “Abby-Normal” level-headed decision to walk in the door that day, I came terribly close to having a monster panic attack!
“I promise I can help you” the Doctor eventually assuaged my anxiety in a soothing voice as I begrudgingly smudged away half of my make-up smeared all over the hi-tech machinery.
“I got it” Igor added with a smile and a sterile wet-wipe.
And with a few more “better or worse?” tests, the Doctor guided me into a sanitized room wherein she plucked my eye wide open and physically crammed a disposable contact lens onto my cornea.
“Look down, look left, look right, look straight ahead. How’s that?” she inquired.
“All good?!” I blinked surprisingly at the newest version of my world offering a bit of clarity.
“Great! Now let me put the other one in” she continued, peeling back my upper and lower eyelids and placing the nearly invisible saucer on my other cornea. “Look down and up” she directed me as the flotation device wandered casually into place.
Scanning the room, everything appeared in High Def!
I could read!
I could see far!
My right eye was being trained for distance, my left eye for closer viewing!!!
“Now let’s do a test with you” my Doc recommended, as I washed my hands profusely before performing the task of plucking out and properly re-inserting the lens in and out of my eyeball all by myself.
“And you’ll NEVER have to purchase any solution EVER AGAIN” she smiled. “You simply wear them for a day, and then THROW THEM OUT! So you never have to worry about cleaning your lenses or re-introducing any allergens into your eyes” she added. “And for full disclosure, if you wear your lenses every single day for a whole year, you’ll probably pay about $600 for a twelve month supply – just so you know,” she added informatively.
“Yeah, I might consider wearing my glasses A LOT on my days off…” I nodded.
“And about your glasses…” Igor typed busily on her computer as I pulled out my debit card. “You’re getting the Premium AR, MF (?) Scratch-resistant, progressive HD lenses which cost $435.00. Oh, and the eye exam is separate, so since you got checked for a contact lens fitting, THAT total is $179.00”
“MMMMHHHH…” I moaned gutturally.
But hey, on the bright side, I had all the exams, I had my tax rebates (sorry Las Vegas, you’ll get NOTHING from me this year!) plus a couple of weeks of free contact lenses and other miscellaneous eye-care stuff in my swag-bag from the Doctor of Optometry.
“Oh, and by the way, since you’re purchasing new frames, your HD lenses are half off!” Igor brightened (as did I!) “You don’t happen to be a member of AAA?” Igor wondered before taking my card and heading off to the credit machine.
“Why, yes I am!” I burrowed through my purse to retrieve positive proof.
“Excellent! That’s another $19.00 off!”
Beginning to think that it’s all MAINTENANCE after the age of 40, but happy to know that there’s a Dr. Frankenstein when you need one,
~Bright-eyed Monster P