I just realized I’m overdue for my annual eye exam.
I’m the first to admit I tend to procrastinate when it comes to making appointments, especially when it involves anything that starts with the word “doctor.” And it’s even worse now that my husband no longer is around to nag me into making appointments.
I still can remember the first time, many years ago, when he told me he thought I was in dire need of an eye exam.
"My eyes are just fine," I assured him, choosing to ignore the fact that my nose usually ended up covered with newsprint whenever I tried to read the paper because I had to hold it so close to my face. The fact was I’d never worn eyeglasses and had no plans to start anytime soon.
When I couldn't bear my husband's nagging any longer, however, I finally gave in, sulking and whining like a three-year-old, and headed to the optometrist’s office.
"I hope I do well on this exam," I told the doctor as I sat in the examining chair. "I have to get my driver's license renewed this month and I don't want to flunk the eye test."
She told me to read the smallest line I could comfortably see on the eye chart, so I chose one a few lines down. I was pretty confident I’d managed to read all of the letters correctly except for one. So I took a wild guess and called it an O. It turned out to be a D.
"Well," she said, “it looks like you're going to need distance glasses to pass your driver's test."
"Noooo!" I protested. "I was really close when I said the D looked like an O, wasn’t I? Let me try it again!"
She shook her head and laughed. "If you insist. But I suspect you've already memorized that line. So I'm switching to a numbers chart."
I managed to make it all the way through the appropriate line of numbers, so I was ready to break out the champagne…until the doctor burst my proverbial bubble.
"You squinted through the whole thing," she said. "You looked as if you were staring into direct sunlight! That's cheating. Now read it again without any squinting."
I barely could see the wall, never mind the chart.
She finally determined I needed both reading and distance glasses...or (perish the thought) bifocals.
"I'm going to put some drops into your eyes now to dilate your pupils so I can take a closer look," she said. "Then I'll have you sit out in the waiting room for a few minutes to allow the drops some time to work. I'll give you dark glasses to wear so the light won't hurt your eyes."
She administered the drops and then said, "Whoa! You really dilated fast…and big! I think you need only about one-third of a drop! I’ll be sure to make a note of that for the next time."
I glanced at my eyes in the mirror as I left the room. I looked like an owl.
And if things weren't already bad enough, the dilated exam later revealed the start of a cataract in my right eye.
"It's really tiny," the doctor assured me when she saw the look of panic on my face. "And your vision is still 20/20 with glasses, so it's nothing to worry about. It might never grow any larger."
I wanted to believe her, but already I was envisioning the King Kong of all cataracts taking my entire eyeball hostage within only a few weeks.
While I was waiting for my new bifocals to be made, I decided to take advantage of a lingerie sale in the department store next door. The only problem was my pupils still were so dilated, not only was I seeing three of everything, every ceiling light seemed like 10,000 watts. So I put on the dark glasses and felt my way over there.
"Buy one bra, get the second for half-price," the sign said. Or at least that's what I thought it said. I practically had to climb on top of it to read it, everything was so blurry.
After looking through a rack of bras, I realized that seeing triple had its disadvantages. I didn't know whether I was looking at D cups or DDD cups. I finally had to ask the sales clerk for help.
When I explained to her why I couldn't see the tags, she laughed and said, "Been there, done that!"
"How long does this torture usually last?" I asked.
"Oh, only about an hour…or two."
That was an hour or two too long to suit me. My head was starting to hurt and the triple vision was making me feel queasy. I was afraid I might have to grab one of the DDD bras and throw up in one of the cups.
To my frustration, over two hours later my eyes still hadn’t returned to normal, so I decided I’d better call my husband to come drive me home – and to bring someone with him to drive my car, otherwise I was going to end up camping overnight out in the parking lot. There was no way I was going to get behind the wheel while seeing three lines in the middle of the road, or six headlights on each oncoming car.
So the next time I went for an eye exam, I was prepared. I made a note to remind the optometrist to use only a small amount of the dilating drops. I brought dark glasses with me that were so large and dark, they covered half my face and made me look like the Lone Ranger. I also made the appointment early in the day so I could take more time to allow the effects of everything to wear off before the optometrist went home for the night.
To my surprise, my preparations turned out to be unnecessary.
“We have a new state-of-the-art camera that takes pictures of the back of your eye,” the technician informed me. “You won’t need to have your eyes dilated.”
I breezed through the exam with no new problems – and no triple vision afterwards. It was amazing.
So now I don’t procrastinate as much (well, not quite as much) when it comes to making appointments for my eye exams. In fact, I’m going to write a note to remind myself to call my optometrist early Monday morning and book an appointment…while I'm still able to see clearly enough to read it.
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