I’ve seen the light. Literally. As in I had my first ever eye test and he shone a light in my eyes at one point. Hard to believe at my age that I haven’t had my eyes tested since I was little.
Things have changed since then.
I’m taller, for one, though not by much.
And they can do all kinds of neat stuff with lenses. Now they’re progressive and they transition and they do all that just sitting on your nose.
Glasses have become busy.
The good news was that my eyes were far better than I thought. They’re a touch weak at close distance (I’ve been wearing 1x reading glasses to compensate for the last four years and they haven’t gotten worse). Too, they’re weak at long distance. A disadvantage when you’re trying to read the signs high over the aisles at the grocery store.
Worse when you’re trying to read the street signs they suspend over intersections, signs intended to aid bird navigation.
Anyway, he’d spin a dial (optometrists like dials) and the chart would come into focus, which was exciting after my recent, blurry history. It was obvious that people my age are supposed to be more subdued and dignified for such exams because he laughed at me (in a kind way) every time I said, “Oh, wow!”
Then things became strange.
Being the trusting soul I am I obediently allowed him to put drops in my eyes without asking what they were for. Yeah, I even smiled while he did it, thinking the entire time that it was to make sure my eyes were well lubricated.
Like I said, I’m new at this.
So, I sat there blinking repeatedly and trying to figure-out what was wrong with my eyes. He finally asked me if I was okay.
“My eyes feel funny.”
“That’s because I numbed them.”
That explained why it felt like I had two marbles in my eye sockets. It also explained why they felt like they were going to fall out and roll across the floor.
I’m pretty sure he was amused when I held my hands below my eyes just in case they did tumble forth. Not something I’d want to see, but then I guess I wouldn’t be seeing it because it’d be my eyeballs rolling across the floor.
When you’re ready to catch your eyeballs isn’t the time you want someone to suggest, “So, lets step into the next room and you can pick out frames.”
Really? Are frames necessary when my eyeballs are about to roll across the floor?
I tried my best to be dignified and not walk into walls. There were no wall collisions, but I’m not sure if I captured the dignified part.
Blink. Blink. Blink.
What a joy trying to select frames when I was doing my best “inadvertent, coquettish, batting eyes routine.” At least they were still in my head and I did select—something.
It’s interesting how you return to normal just in time to pay and drive home. Good thing, too, because I wouldn’t want to be rolling down the road when my eyeballs fell out.
And what happens if you put the wrong eyeball back in the wrong socket? Do you think you’re seeing out of the opposite eye and so left is right and right is left?
I might be over thinking this.
Still, I know there’s a difference because my left eye is my master eye (stationary objects shift position when my left eye is closed, but not visa-versa). That’s why I can’t hit a target since I ended up right handed…mostly right handed, but that’s a different story.
And my point was…?
Oh, if they switched my eyeballs would it fix my inability to hit a target? Does it matter? Would I let them switch my eyeballs?
Okay, that last question makes all the answers, “No.”
Anyway, in the end all went well, he and his staff were nice, and I’ll have my glasses next week. And my eyeballs are still in my head.