The Freelance Retort: Eye Yi Eye

I had a visit with my eye doctor last week.

Well, I guess it really wasn’t a visit…there was no tea involved, and nary a crumpet to be found.

No, it was for my annual eye exam.

Annual, if every 5 years or so counts.

As I’ve discussed in the past, I’m not very good at making appointments…for anything…especially anything that begins with Dr.

But I decided it was time to go see the eye doc, mostly because I was having trouble seeing all the walls I kept bumping into.

That and the fact I’d begun to notice mothers yanking their kids off the sidewalk whenever I pulled my car out of the driveway.

So I thought maybe people were seeing some things I wasn’t…so to speak.

Like stop signs…and curbs…and such.

So I gave in and made an appointment with my eye doc.

Well…not my eye doc, per se, since it turned out my eye doc had retired since I’d last been in to see him.

So I had to see his replacement…which I did, which is why I’m using the word “see” so much…since it’s all about the eyes…yi eye.

I first became aware of my vision trouble when way back in 6^th grade. It was becoming difficult to see the blackboard…and most of the other kids…plus I noticed the yearly eye exam they made us take was getting harder and harder to memorize.

You know…the one where you had to see the Giant E on top of the chart and read your way down.

When they asked me to read the rest of the chart, it was of course all a blur, so I just made stuff up…including some Greek.

Most of which was wrong.

Except for the Greek.

As a result of this failure, I was sent home with a note, saying I needed to get my eyes checked by a professional, rather than the guy who delivered the milk every morning, who doubled as the school eye test administrator…but, being nearly blind, I could have been mistaken.

So from there I was diagnosed with “Mr. Magooiopia” and subsequently prescribed a series of eye glasses—which I hardly ever war—except to see…and hard contacts, which were these little tiny plastic dots that felt as if they were stuck onto my pupil with paper clips…until I moved on to the much more reasonable, not to mention comfortable, soft contact lenses, which I could actually sleep in.

Basically, the point is, a lot has changed since my old doc retired and this new doc stepped in to take his place…you know, after he finished his morning milk runs.

I mean, a lot has changed, except the horrified expression on the staff’s faces when I say, I haven’t been in for…a while.

Which I don’t really mind…but find the genuflecting and hand blessings to be a bit excessive.

There were a few additional pre-exam machines to contend with, now, including this one large computer where I had to stick my entire face in a hole, or so it seemed, and have an image of the back of my eye made.

Which in some ways is very cool but in others, disconcerting, since I don’t think I’ve even seen the back of my eye, let alone strangers.

What if it doesn’t look like everybody else’s?

What if I’m shunned because of it, like my third nipple?

I was just getting used to the body parts I already knew were unusual.

Did I really need to add another to the list?

But apparently, the back of my eye wasn’t all that out of line with any of the others…and besides the additional genuflecting and hand blessings, no one really gave that indication.

Finally, I got to meet my new eye doc, who pretty much resembled my old eye doc...I think—I really couldn't tell since everything was blurry— who then conducted the exam in pretty much the same manner as before…minus the leeches.

There were a lot of “look here” and “look there’s”…and the customary, “Is this better or worse…better now…and how about now. Better one…or better two…better 4 or better 3…which I think they throw in just to confuse you.

In fact sometimes I’m pretty sure they don’t change a thing, just to fool you.

But who’s fooling who?

Most of the time I’m just guessing, anyway, because, like I said, it all looks fuzzy to me.

But you’re not gonna catch me flunking another eye test…nope…not since my 6^th grade humiliation.

I’ve got all the letters memorized by now.

And it works because my prescription hasn’t changed in 20 years, and I can still walk into walls without seeing them coming.

Which is a plus because who needs to see that?