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Saturday, December 17, 2005

Ol' Pink Eye

Today I got an email from my dear friend Dave White
telling me that he enjoyed my Thanksgiving stuffing story, and I realized that I hadn't really written much since then, so here I am.

The moral of this story is twofold:

1. If you email me and tell me you like what I'm doing, I do it more.
2. Writing HTML links isn't really that hard. Getting them to work, however, is another story.

Go ahead and check out Dave's site, Social Studies for Kids. It's an excellent resource for teachers, and adults can learn a thing or two from it, too.

Anyway, I thought I'd catch you up on what's been going on. In case you were worried, the Ol' Pink Eye this post is named for is none other than Yours Truly, Me. On Wednesday I woke up with my eyes a bit gummier than usual, but thought nothing of it. I spent four hours interviewing my students for their final exams, and all morning they told me that my right eye was red, and that I looked tired and sick.

Yeah. Lesson number one: don't tell people they look bad, especially when they do.

By the time I got home, Horyon took one look at me and sent me back out to the eye doctor.

The eye doctor is a pro all the way. He wastes no energy on pleasantries and talk. He speaks English very well, and doesn't waste any of it on the usual "Nice to meet you"s and "Are you an English teacher?"s. He had me sit in the special chair, put my chin on the chin rest, then said, "I'm going to invert your eyelid. Look down." I caught the last bit, but was still sorting out the first when he grabbed my eyelid and turned it inside out and took a picture of it. He showed me the picture on the screen, and told me it was very red. I could see that, but really, and quite counterintuitively, have no idea what color the insides of my eyelids usually are. So I nodded and agreed, just like my students do when I say things like, "You can see that using the right verb in this situation is absolutely necessary, right?"

A few minutes, and one more inverted eyelid picture later, we were done. I told him thank you and offered my hand. As he shook it, he told me that he was going to have to wash his hands again.

Note to self: don't offer to shake hands with the doctor. He is physically unable to resist the impulse to shake back, though it goes against all his training, and perhaps his very nature, and will do nothing but annoy him.

Other note to self: Ah hell, shake hands with him anyway.

Peace,

Rob

1 comment:

a Former resident of Gopetar, Nepal said...

Back in '90 I traveled by boat on the Mahakkam River in East Kalimantan Indonesia (Borneo) with a group of 20 international exchange students. I was one of the lucky two who didn't get pink eye.

Was it luck or was it because I didn't participate in the butterfly kissing contest?

I should have learned my lesson back then. The next kissing contest that I had the opportunity to join was in a bar in Pohkara, Nepal. I believe that our dear author of the Roblog won. All I got was the threat of bodily harm by one of the judges.

A Brief Introduction

Roblog is my writing lab. It is my goal to not let seven days pass without a new post. I welcome your criticism, as I cannot improve on my own.

Here is a link to my cung post, which remains the only word which I have ever invented, and which has not, as far as I know, caught on. Yet.