Ha! Cheater!

Yesterday I went to the eye doctor. For some reason it always makes me nervous to go. Granted, I have a fear of the medical doctor, and I have a fear of the dentist, but the EYE doctor?

My adventures at the eye doctor began after an eye test at school in third grade. I remember standing there and some woman rubbing my back and telling me it was okay. I remember thinking she was weird because no, I couldn't read the letters on the piece of paper half a gym away, but I wasn't worried about it...I certainly didn't need someone rubbing my back telling me it would be okay.

A few days later I went to the eye doctor (who totally freaked me out with all of his weird machines) with my mom and we ordered glasses. Big, pink, plastic glasses. Hey, they were popular at the time (at least I thought so). After they arrived I wore them and was amazed that trees actually had individual leaves! They weren't just a trunk with a blob of green on the top. Nice! Then came the first day of school with my glasses. I had made a diorama of some sort and hid the glasses in there. As soon as I walked in my teacher asked about where my glasses were (sometimes, people, good communication between parents and teachers sucks). I told her I didn't want to wear them. So we started the day with a discussion about people who are different. The teacher asked if anyone had any experiences they wanted to share about being different. One boy said his brother got called metal mouth all the time because he had braces. One girl said that her sister got teased all the time for wearing glasses - people called her four eyes and nerd. This discussion was doing nothing to encourage me to wear my new pink plastic glasses. The teacher asked what things people who had glasses could do that others couldn't. Answers were all over the place and included "read" and "play." And for some reason, this made sense to my third grade mind...even though I had obviously read and played before and everyone else in the class who didn't have glasses could read and play without them. But I took them out, and I put them on and that was that.

Anyway, so it's yesterday, and I check in at the eye doctor. I notice, once again, that I'm the youngest patient there by at least 40 years. The clinic I go to specializes in all sort of surgery stuff, so I assume that's why...but it always makes me feel weird. Anyway, so I'm wearing my contacts and the woman at the front desk asks if I brought my glasses. Oh! My glasses! Does she mean the ones with the broken nose piece, the bent ear piece, and the lenses which were chewed up by the cat? Yes! As a matter of fact I DID bring those with me. I hand them over muttering about how they're old and I don't really wear them, slightly embarrassed at the state they're in, but the front desk people always have to "analyze" the glasses for some reason, so I hand them over.

Eventually, I get called back (Duh-Neat? Duh-Neat? Is Duh-Neat here?...oh! That's me. Silly girl. Blame it on the low battery in my hearing aid), and the doctor comes in and makes a little small talk (Every year he talks about St. Kate's and tells me about how he graduated from St. Thomas and that the speaker at his graduation was so old the doctor thought he was going to fall over dead right in the middle of his speech. While this was a fine story the first time he told me it has now become somewhat funny and I giggle a little as soon as he starts in..."so a looong time ago I graduated from St. Thomas, you know."). After the small talk, he begins with the whole put this machine in front of your face and read the bottom line. I absolutely hate this test. You know...where you get down to the bottom line and then he starts saying "is this one better or worse?" "Do you prefer one or two?" as he flips little pieces of glass around. I always feel like he's trying to trick me - like if he says "one or two" and I say "two" and then he moves things around but really keeps them the same and says "one or two" and I say "one" that he'll jump up and say "ha! cheater!"...or what if I say one is better than two but really two is better than one...then I'm stuck with a wrong prescription for a whole year...I know, I know, I'm a little neurotic, what can I say.

Anyway, after he finishes that and he asks if a resident from the U of M can come in. Apparently my eyes look "perfect" and "young" (uh, yeah, remember the waiting room?) and he wants her to see them. So in she comes. He puts the drops in my eyes and gets all up close to look inside. Then he hands it over to the resident and she gets all up close. The thing is that she can't seem to figure out how to use the eye looker thing...he tells her that when people are near sighted it can be harder to get it in focus and explains how she needs to do it. So she keeps trying and trying and trying. For 4-5 minutes I sit staring straight ahead while she shines a light in my eye and keeps her face no more than 1/2 inch from mine. Ah well...anything in the name of learning and science, right? (She thanked me profusely afterwards and I wished her good luck with her residency.)

And with that, I was given my new prescription (one step blinder than a bat in each eye than I was last year) and left. And now I can say PHEW. Done for another year (and he didn't even call me a cheater).