Ftrain, by Paul Ford

Went to the ophthalmologist; she dilated me and poked my eyeball with a stick. "Do you mind if K-- also pokes your eyeball with a stick?" she asked. "She's training. I'd like her to look at it." Of course not; everyone can poke my eyeball with a stick, especially if it helps science. There was some discussion about the proper method of pokery. The assistant about 6' and curly-haired. She kept asking me to look at her, look over her, look down, etc.; which is uncomfortable if you like me are trained not to look at womens' bodies up close, and instead are careful to make eye contact (of the less literal variety) or to observe the contour of the dress but not the contents and compliment the fabric but not the bozoongs and nay-nays; esp. hard, esp. as the owners of the body you are not to look at is poking your eyeball with a stick and saying look here, and you are thus forced to look, and you realize that somewhere along the line you've become Victorianized by aging and urban proximity. Then realized--all this was two or three seconds?--that it was stupid. So I looked, as directed, at her knees and at the dried skin on the elbow, and the silver dangling watch, the paleness of the skin, the underside of the chin. With interest because it's rare to see stranger so close, and with amusement at my own confusion, but with full disclosure no lust in my heart. It's always so intimate with doctors; the patient feels probed, with his dilated cartoon pupils--but the doctor's flesh is also under observation, each angle and fold observed thirty times a day. It's like being on HDTV.

Then training was over and the poking-stick put away. The regular doctor sat before me, and thanked me for my contribution to science, and gave me a prescription for my vision--one eye 20/20, the other blurring the distances. It's surprising your doctor put you on a β-blocker, she said, checking my form. That is usually for very old people with high-blood pressure. At your age. Interesting. Also there is a hole in your retina, you should have the laser. All this in a slight Polish accent with a few dozen years of Brooklyn layered in. Sort of sweet, really.

This reminded me of something I wrote at the last appt., when the ophthalmologist--a different one--was batshit. A year or two ago, when I was just starting to bike for reals:

This ophthalmologist is small, older, British. Spies my helmet--he bikes as well, he says, but the pedal came down on a curb when he veered to avoid a car and threw him over the handlebars and he hurt his shoulder biking; it's terrible, terrible pain. People in cars are insane here. Look at me, just look at me. I used to run, he said. Five, six miles. I had a disease, he said. Chemotherapy. Affected all of my organs, had to slow down. (He remains the doctor by not telling me the name of his disease.) It was supposed to get to my heart but the doctors said that it didn't. Normally I would have needed a heart transplant. But my heart. At least you wear a helmet. How much do you bike? Four miles in 35 minutes?

(He bikes further than that when he rides. He works hard.)

Hills, you need hills. Too flat the way you take. Too cold for biking now anyway, isn't it? In your thin coat aren't you cold?

I am well padded, I say.

You're too young for blood pressure. You need more hills. You have a mirror on your bicycle? Oh, you should have a mirror. He lifts up my eyelid somehow; I see bright lights. How tall are you? Really? A foot taller than me. You're a big fellow then. Look to the right please. My son is the same age as you, but only 5'11", but not obese. He eats too much junk. Potato chips at night, that sort of thing is the problem. I eat rice cakes is what I do. The weight is in your family? So what are you, Italian? Irish. Hmm. What, you eat too many potatoes? Please keep your eyes still. I'm not going to hurt you. Rice cakes maybe with some sesame butter for the protein. Look at me. Please don't move your eyes. But just a little sesame butter. For breakfast and then for lunch. Put your head back. Here's a tissue. Fruit has too many carbohydrates. Rest your chin please. I have to watch out for my kidney function. My son. I'm not happy with his food. He's not as big as you, though. But.

There is fractional evidence of high blood pressure deep inside my eyes. I walk out dazed, dilated, shortsighted, overprescribed, thinking Even my eyes are fat.