Andrea Mulder-Slater

by Andrea Mulder-Slater Yesterday, I went for a follow up visit with my optometrist, after something peculiar was discovered during an earlier appointment. Perhaps pure spun gold was found at the edge of my iris. Maybe I had a third pupil. Really I had no idea because I had asked exactly zero questions. Remarkably, I wasn’t the slightest bit concerned about my ocular oddity, which was completely out of character considering the fact that over the past year, I’ve been painstakingly working my way alphabetically through the medical community (cardiologist, dermatologist…) you know, just to “rule things out.” But, for some inexplicable reason, what can go wrong with my eyes is a question I had not yet asked Dr. Google. I arrived early for my 3:30pm appointment. This is what happened next. 3:25pm: Enter waiting room, sit down and grab home decorating magazine. Flip through pages of pristine kitchens with monstrous bowls of glossy lemons sitting on gleaming countertops while spe...

by Andrea Mulder-Slater It all began several mornings ago. Geoff (hopeful): “Are you winking at me?” Me (indignant): “I’m not winking at you. I just woke up. I’m half asleep.” Geoff (disappointed): “You’re eye is completely shut. Don’t you feel that?” I walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. My left eye looked tired, bag-ridden and wrinkled. Perfectly normal. However, my right eye - up to my eyebrow and down to my cheek - was far more swollen than usual. Like a grapefruit. Or a puffer fish. My mind raced as I tried to determine why I looked like I had just lived through ten (okay two) rounds of a boxing match. Did I doze off on a wasp? Did I sleep-punch myself in the head? Really, anything was possible. I have a tendency to worry   fret   freak-the-hell-out and so, I decided to calm my fears by self-diagnosing with the help of the Internets. Because, only good things can come from Googling symptoms at six o’clock in the morning. Am I ri...