Tuesday

9am, I went to the eye doctor. I like an early appointment, you know, get it out of the way. I've been getting dry, sore eyes and I wanted to make sure there wasn't anything seriously wrong.

A couple of middle aged chicks arrived in the waiting room after me, seemingly stressed out about parking. 

Oh luvs, chill, I thought. So uptight over nothing really. Parking. Catch a train next time, if it is such an issue. One of them was pacing. I guess we all get tied up in our own shit.

I was waiting for them to draw me into their parking drama so I could say, smugly that I walked, but they didn't draw me into it.

I pushed play on my music.

There is nothing wrong with my eyes, as such, which is good news. Maybe the tiny glands on my eye lids that, what, er, regulate the tears in my eyes maybe a little blocked, um, perhaps a little faulty, um, aren't doing the job they should be doing, which could be causing my dry eyes by the end of the day.

"Apply some heat to them, is what I suggest," said the nice eye specialist. "It should help."

"My partner (Sam) gave me a wheat bag to heat up in the microwave and then apply."

"Yes, that is a good idea." Sam will feel vindicated when I tell him, as he fancies himself as a medical advisor, despite holding an IT degree.

I didn't tell her that I can spend 15 hours a day looking at my laptop screen, ah, er, probably not relevant.

I had trouble with the sun dazzling my eyes after all the drops they put into my eyes for all the tests, when I headed back outside. I walked through the Fitzroy gardens with my eyes closed. It was like a Fellini movie with all the trees planted along the pathway taking on surrealist greens and shadowy colours.

I was home long enough to make a coffee.

Then I took myself off to my GP. Apparently, my bi-annual blood tests have come back and the doc wants to talk to me about them. Actually, I went to see one of the junior doctors for the blood tests, so it would be he who requested the discussion about the results.

All I could think was, what disease have they picked up.

I walked to the GP. It's a 45 minute walk, which I thought was a good way to get some exercise if I'm not going to the grym. My eyes were still a bit sensitive, but it was still good to walk.

"Okay, let's look," said my (lovely) doctor. All good, was the answer. everything is good.

Yay.

I walked part of the way home, when I remembered I didn't get him to test my blood pressure. Ah, well, it's normally just fine.

I caught the tram half way back down Brunswick Street.

I stopped in at the Middle Eastern bakery and picked up lunch which was my reason for relenting and catching the tram, as Sam was waiting for me to bring the lunch home and there was a good chance he was tapping his watch by this stage, the two of us being breakfast discordant. I always eat breakfast, Sam doesn't normally.

A1 bakery, makes good food.

I'm listening to Pete Murray, Blue Sky Blue. It's good walking music.