the great indoors

A long while back, I thought this about people who used mall doctors: it’s like using the ER room: you go there spontaneously, when in need, and when you’re without resources and (therefore) without the ability to develop a continuing relationship with an established medical professional. In other words – not me, not if I can help it.

But the fact is, my medical insurance does not cover eye care and so for the last half dozen years, I have shopped for the cheap and convenient. And so I bought my eye care at the mall.

Like fashion, mall docs come and go. I’ve never had the same palate to choose from. I look at the list and tell the receptionist – put me down for the best one! I always wonder what she does with that.

If you think these are second rate docs, I'll tell you you’re wrong. Actually, I don’t know one way or another. I do know that a number choose the mall venue because of the work hours, others – because of the easier billing structure, and still others – because of the client base. The previous mall doc told me this – I really like the people who come here. (What, he likes mall people? But I’m not a mall person! I wish people had other places to congregate; not here, not by stalls of junk food and racks of stuff we don’t need!) I had thought then that it’s an odd place to like your patients – chances are you’ll never see them again.

Today, I felt I did my bit by giving a young mall doctor her necessary experience to make it in the world of eye care. She and her (equally young) assistant were enthusiastic and seemingly very competent in using the multitude of machines that are now (I guess) standard testing fare. Wonderful people. May they do well.

Afterward, I looked to purchase new glasses. But, the price of fashionable frames was out of my range. I decided I’d simply knock out the old glass and put in the new lens. Ed tells me he wouldn’t recognize me if I change frames anyway, as he has only known me in my current ones. He’s no judge of what’s fashionable (remember – he’s happiest with t-shirts he gets for free from odd sources), but I can’t worry about that.

Ed suggested we head for La Baguette for a pick me up snack of a quiche and café. I felt better. There, I chatted with Madame and took photos of the warmest looking furniture anywhere. With an Orangina at the side, the shot reminded me, in a red(-ish) and orange sort of way, of yesterday’s photo.