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The following conversation took place this evening, at approximately 6:30 P.M. between Dr.Drake and his wife.

Wife: Hi darling how was your day?
Dr.D: It WAS good, until around 10.
Wife: Why? What happened?
Dr.D: I'd rather not talk about it.
Wife: Okay,deary,sit down and eat your meatloaf.
Dr.D: I think I will stand and eat tonight.
Wife: Don't be ridiculous, sweetie! Sit.
Dr.D: I CAN'T sit, OK?????
Wife: Well, why ever not, pumpkin?
Dr.D: Because I met a woman named Cici today, and she ripped me a new asshole!
Wife: Oh my!

About two weeks ago, Lauren told me she was seeing TWO of everything. Thinking it was odd, I paid closer attention to her behaviors. I noticed her shaking her head a bit, like she was trying to shoo a bug away. When I asked her what was wrong, she told me she was trying to see only ONE of things.

It would help if you knew that I am EXTREMELY picky about which Doctors I will use. Doing an externship at a medical malpractice law firm skews ones view quite quickly.

I have a list of providers whom I would not let touch my goldfish.

I also have a list of the TOP in the field, for almost EVERY specialty. Call it my type-A personality, but if I ever get penile cancer, I know exactly where to go!

So, a quick glance at my list tells me that Dr. Drake is THE pediatric eye man in this region. He is board certified in pediatrics, opthamology, constructive surgery, and has acted as an expert in several high profile litigation proceedings. What his CV did NOT state was that he is a Fellow of the American Academy Of Assholes.

Of course, being that he is THE man, a call to his office prompted them to offer me an appointment, in December. I threw around a few big medical words to throw the receptionist for a loop and name dropped a bit. SHAZAM! An appointment was booked for today at 10.

We were seen by the nurse, who did the standard read the chart test, and put drops in Lauren's eyes, then sent us out to wait for dilation to occur.

Once we were called back, Dr. Drake came in. A small man he is not. And, I could smell his breath before he even OPENED his mouth. You know that type. The breath is so bad that it oozes out of the pores.

So he did his little exam, stated his diagnosis and said, "She needs glasses, but not for her vision."

Um... Ok.

It was then that I offended the man beyond repair. I called into question his years at Harvard medical school.

"So, what does THAT mean?" I dared ask.

"It means I have been doing this for twenty-THREE years and I KNOW what I am talking about!" He snorted.

"Well, no one is questioning your credentials, but you are talking about MY child!" I told him.

"It's all very confusing! You wouldn't understand!' He bellowed.

GAME. ON. BITCH.

"I have a MASTER'S DEGREE FROM M.I.T., TRY ME." I snotted. I figured, if I am going to LIE about my degree, I may as well lie about my Alma Mater, too.

He bowed down, and took a blank piece of paper out.

Yeah, I thought so. Who's my bitch?

He began drawing optic nerves and refraction prisms. Then he festooned the page with fancy words like accommadation, myosis and hyperopia. He drew a bunch of arrows and triangles, and explained in grave detail the way that ocular reflexes work.

I looked on like a Harvard grad student and took in every word.

When he was done, I felt like I had just watched a foreign French film with no subtitles. I had NO clue what the man just said or what happened.

I did not retain or process a damn word.

"Thank you, that makes perfect sense now." I said.

He set up an appointment for next week, as we have to measure Lauren for glasses.

Why?

I'm not quite sure. I think her flange is discombobulated and she needs a flux capacitor for her thingamajigy.

I was half-way out the door when the nurse stopped me.

"Mrs. MIT?, Good for you! No one has ever stood up to him like that." She whispered.

I already printed out a copy of the 'It's ALL ABOUT CICI' Memo.

I'll give it to him next week.