a literary device…
It’s the stuff movies are made of.
Not an “A” movie where our highly attractive antagonist, complete with strong chin and 5 o’clock shadow, wreaks havoc on some unsuspecting spec of the universe; meanwhile, the hero braves all peril to save the world thereby winning over the damsel’s heart.
Not at all.
More like the kind of movies you rent when you’re home alone on a Wednesday night and need an excuse not to fold laundry or clean out the garage.
Those kind of movies.
In some unfortunate twist of grocery store fate, I ran into a VT believer turned Western Medicine disciple, last weekend. I say unfortunate because…well, read on.
Allow me to set the scene. I had been camping the night before. I barely slept. I was un-showered. I hadn’t even brushed my teeth. Gross, I know. When, on my way home from the great outdoors I stopped for a few essentials, and voila, someone tapped me on the shoulder. When I realized who was behind me, I quickly tried to remember how to make myself invisible, but it didn’t work. Of all the super powers to leave in my other pants! I mustered a smile.
That kind of meeting.
A friend of a friend, or the “VT basher” as I commonly refer to her, she has been through seven surgeries involving her eyes. Yeah, you read that right. Seven. Granted, two of them were Lasik related, but still. Her eyes remain crossed, no surgeon will touch her because there’s not much muscle left to cut, and from what she says depth perception left her long ago. But fear not, she’s on two different types of anti-depressants and so are her kids. Their life is wonderful. But whatever, I don’t judge.
Still, she maintains that my profession is in some way flawed, and Western Medicine has saved her life. In fact, spreading that message is now her job. The mere mention of Vision Therapy completely enrages her, which I will admit, can be fun.
Surely, she’s a nice lady on some basic level – just a touch misunderstood. A hot blooded Irish girl with a bulldog mentality. She gets her point across, she changes people’s opinions, she wins arguments – or so she’d have you believe. She fights for the things that really matter – like supplying 4 year olds with the latest chemical cocktail so they stop drooling and picking their noses – because ostensibly, those are abnormal behaviors at that age. In her words, “it’s important that people make the right decision about their kid’s well being”, like when she encouraged her 9 year old child’s expressive side by allowing him to dance naked around the house. Sounds all well and good, until your kid decides to demonstrate what they’ve learned in Starbucks. Yeah, that really happened.
But don’t worry caffeine connoisseurs, her kids are now medicated too, heavily. Because, you know…Western Medicine.
You can see why I cringed when she greeted me. As we talked for a few brief moments, emphasis on brief, I was searching for a reason to extract. Given my state of mind, not to mention foul odor, her negative opinions of VT had about as much significance to me as what the bird left on the rock. I even tried to stand closer, hoping she’d catch a whiff of my camping experience. Not so fast. She told me of the latest and greatest prescription her son is trying.
Can I go home now?
Ironically, although unbelievably, there was a time when VT advocacy was within her arsenal. An open admission made by someone who claims to have “seen the light” created by the wonders that numerous surgical procedures and knock-off medications the world has to offer, and now she plays for the other team. In her staunch support of Western Medicine, she proclaims that we should all look at ourselves in the mirror and ask what we can do in our free time to help ‘the cause’.
I watch a lot of baseball. Carpe diem.
Her particular script is one we’ve all seen before. A bunch of know-it-all’s trying to save the world, or whatever her brand of know-it-all’s call it. Wishing ill upon others in not my thing, so I choose to have fun with it instead. If ever there was a time to hope for an outbreak of amoebic dysentery in a her neighborhood, now is it. Speaking of turds, applying too much butter to your popcorn during a movie can be harmful to your health.
But hey, there’s a pill for that too.
Presumably, you’ve picked up on my sarcasm, and maybe even smiled a bit. Before you get mad, remember that she tapped me on the shoulder, not the other way around. I was only in it for the shampoo.
Our meeting was like a scene from a bad movie. If only we could have waited for the book to come out.
Oh look, it’s Wednesday.
Guess I’m folding laundry tonight…