This is my new friend. I’ve named him Splotch because that’s what he looks like. A splotch. A giant purple splotch. With a pink halo.

Splotch was a gift to me from the little man who lives inside the special camera at the Ophthalmologist’s office. My doctor used him to get an image of my right lens/retina and since the little man takes his job very seriously and wanted to get it perfect the first time, he flashed a light into my right eye I’m guessing twenty times the light of the sun.

That was Thursday morning. When Splotch was still there on Friday arvo, I called my doctor who told me to come back straight away. I thought he was going to have a nice chat with Splotch and tell him to move on. Instead, he summoned the little man inside the camera who flashed a second light directly into my right eye almost as bright as the first one because, well I’m guessing because the two men decided they hadn’t killed enough brain cells the first time.

But when the exam was finished, the doctor assured me Splotch was just an Ophthalmic Migraine who would, eventually, move on of his own accord and I simply needed to wait him out. Ophthalmic Migraines are apparently painless, unlike temporal ones, so if I just kept Splotch in the dark and didn’t give him anything fun to look at, he would fade away into the sunset in a few hours. Or maybe days. The doctor wasn’t actually sure.

By Saturday evening I was so bored from sleeping and lying in bed listening to television I decided to try some editing. (I owe the nice lade who puts money in my bank a bit of time from not working on Friday.) But no matter what I did or how I moved my head, Splotch just refused to get out of my road. And the little clothes horse kept changing his shirt. First he was purple with pink trimmings, then yellow with blue and orange trim. Sometimes I could almost see straight through him but he’d figure out what I was up to and  lunge back into his dark purple shirt, making me blind again.

The game of squint and seek left me with a bonified headache so I gave up and went back to bed. This morning I got up, looked out the window and this is what I saw…

Oh goody. He’s still here. I decided to ignore Splotch and read the news.

Squinting, blinking, shaking my head, peering around corners, cussing, nothing seems to discourage this little guy. And if he’s still here in the morning I’m supposed to call the doctor back so he can tell me all about Plan B.

At least… there better be a Plan B.