My luck had to run out one of these fine days. Everybody’s does sooner or later. I’ve had a fantastic run — I’ve been lucky all of my life — and shall continue to count myself fortunate. But being suddenly out of luck makes one feel unmasked, which does take a bit of getting used to. Such were the morbid thoughts running through my head as I sat in the eye clinic waiting room, already packed by 8.30, waiting to see Mr Doyle.
It was my third visit in two weeks. They’d photographed the interiors of my eyeballs hundreds of times. They’d blown little puffs of air at them. They’d told me to watch the red light until it turns green, then look to the left. But I had yet to see this Mr Doyle. Closely following my second visit, a hospital administrator had rung me up and told me that he wanted to see me urgently and could I come in again tomorrow morning?
‘Urgently?’ I said.
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