Today was my annual eye doctor appointment with my retina specialist, Dr. Sarah Galchus, who is a mystery novelist as well as an opthamologist. I’ve never asked her about it. Maybe next year. According to Amazon, there’s only one copy of Charleston Red left. I think I’ll order it.
Anyway, the good news is that all is as it should be. My vision is poor, but stable. I can’t ask for more than that. Thank you, Lord. The best part is the glasses they give me afterward to protect my dilated pupils. I think they’re made by Wham-Oh! At least they roll up like those plastic sleds we used to cruise down the hills on.
Later, at the transit center waiting for my bus, I over heard one chain-smoking adolescent girl say to another, “I want glasses like THAT guy.” It was just as my bus was arriving, otherwise I really wanted to hand them to her, just for the joy of seeing her face. Such pleasures will have to wait. I’m confident another opportunity for snark will present itself.
The other notable event of the experience happened as I was checking in. Dalager, the way we pronounce it, is almost inevitably mis-heard as Gallagher the first time we say it to anyone. Therefore, I usually say to receptionists and others who need to spell it, “Dalager with a D as in David.” Sherry says “…with a D as in Dog.” Anyway, today was more of the same.
“Steve Dalager, with a D as in David.”
Looking. Looking. Furrowed brow.
“You said Gallagher, right?”
“Yes, Gallagher, with a G as in Gavid,” I said…but I didn’t. I chose not to be snarky.
Two missed opportunities in two hours time. I’m not worried, though. There will be more.