Seeing the Eye Doctor (Get It? Ha Ha.)

Visited the eye doctor this morning. Three years since the last exam. I’ve had to squint to read the wall menus at Starbucks and Panera Bread; the lettering keeps getting lighter and lighter. So it was time. Or past time. I’ve been intending to set up an appointment since November.

Every time I get a checkup, I feel like I’ve waited too long. And yet, every time, the doctor tells me, “Well, you have a little change, but not much.” That irks me. I KNOW there’s a big change. They are MY eyes. I can TELL. (I will now stop shouting at you. I apologize. You didn’t do anything to me.)

I don’t trust that machine, the one where you play the game, “Which is better, A or B?” Well, it’s not always that easy. I’m sure that I gave the wrong answers, thereby resulting in his diagnosis of only minor change. He wants an A or B answer, and I keep wanting to qualify it–B is lighter/darker, a bit blurry, I’m seeing double, that might be an E or an H, but I think it’s an E. The doctor doesn’t want to hear stuff like that. He wants a definitive answer, so he can go on to slides C and D (which are not much different).

I believe the doctor, who is nearing retirement age, just makes assumptions about what I need based on having done such exams thousands of times. So we play the game for a while, he writes out a prescription, and he tells me to come back in a couple of years. And I’m left thinking, “I know I should have told him A. I’m so STUPID!”

As I write, I’m having trouble focusing on the computer screen, thanks to those dastardly drops he puts in my eyes.

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