Sometime after the doctor with whom I had an appointment had scheduled a battery of tests, dilated the eyes and sent me to consult with another doctor in another hospital in another part of town under “emergency” orders, I stopped fooling myself that it was just a routine check-up. Even so, I couldn’t help smiling when the retina specialist began to speak in clichés. Did I have someone accompanying me? “Only the driver.” Could I sit down, the news wasn’t good? “Like going-blind-bad?” “Yes,” the doctor confirmed stentorianly, “kindly be serious.” This was after he’d made me stare for what
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