My Artificial Tears

So, I do have glaucoma in my left eye? Ear? No, eye! EYE!  Kept in control by a laser. Shoot, shoot, shoot, a dozen, two dozen times into the socket, on the second floor of a clinic surrounded by the crime ridden Richmond ghetto,  and glaucoma is kept in check. For a while.  If only my father had heard it. He was the one who first let me know about the power of lasers. A half a century ago, man!  What did daddy know?

I went to see the ophtalmologist Oriental doctor ('Oriental' solely to provoke your kneejerk 'racist' reaction against my political incorrectness, but aren't the Israelis, among others,  'Asian', as residents of that continent?!  You should of learned your geography, teacher!)  following that painless laser surgery a month earlier.  The nurse, who, as is the custom, prepared me for the doctor's visit, checked my vision,  asked the required questions, including if I took any prescription eye drops,  or over the counter eye drops like 'artificial tears'.  No and no. Artificial tears?  Before I could ask, she was gone, and I was sitting there waiting and wondering what artificial tears were. Something women apply to their faces to pretend they are crying?  A long wait, and I should have brought with me from the waiting room the issue of the New Yorker with a story by Alexander Hemon about borscht.

My 'Asian' doctor, she not from Israel, and not from East of the Ural mountains, finally arrived, measured the pressure in my eyes,  told me that the pressure, still a bit high,  did indeed decrease by 30%, as they expected, hoped for.  Come back to see her in a month.

What are artificial tears the naive me asked?  "Oh, it's a huge industry", she answered.  Some people, predominantly women, suffer from dry eyes, and you are lucky in that respect.  Then I was wrong and  half right - women suffering from dry eyes, as well as those pretending to suffer,  do have to use artificial tears when wishing to pretend they're crying.