Written by Patrick Lacombe
As I get older, I find my body changing. Maturity is good in some ways. Obviously being a lumberjack is more for younger people. But I am happy with where I am now. Most of my body parts are holding up well; some improved, and I do my part to maintain myself.
However my eyes seem to be slacking a bit; they don’t seem to embrace the same agenda as the rest of me.
They have decided that they will start slowing down on the job, not pulling their weight and overall not meeting the performance standards set for the rest of my body.
A few years ago I noticed some issues with reading small print, not really anything to worry about, I thought, most likely a lack of suitable light.
Then I started having to hold things further away to clearly read normal text. But it was the day I was shopping for groceries when I ended up with something I didn’t want. Imagine getting ready for a quick snack of Pringles when you pop open the can and find three tennis balls.
I was able to see clearly that those were not going to make a suitable side to my sandwich.
I have visited a local eye doctor for a few years; I am comfortable there. And yes this is a real eye doctor, the best place to visit for anything concerning eyes.
If you get something in your eye the local eye doctor is the place to go, not the regular doctor that pokes and prods the rest of your body.
I am comfortable with dental visits, so getting an eye exam is like a walk in the park.
Well maybe not quite. The first thing they do is take you to a dark room.
There is a simple check they do on each eye for some potential serious issues. It is not painful, nor uncomfortable, but “different”. You look into this machine at a small boring little dot, the machine makes some noises, then a small puff of air blows at your eyeball. Once you do this one time your eye has a hard time waiting for the test to be over. Perhaps if the small dot was an image of a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader (OK, Aaron Rodgers for the ladies) it might ease a bit of the anxiety. After that you move to another instrument with yet another dull image to stare at while the technician performs some other test; this one is not uncomfortable at all. Finally you get into the dark exam room, look at all sorts of letters and characters to see just how well your eyes are performing. Some of the characters are regular letters, some are the same figure just turned different ways. One of the tricks they use is to have very similar letters on the same line, just to trick you. I find this quite unfair. Then there is the last major test, it involves shining an intense light into your eyes. Quite like getting your photo taken as a child with those nuclear flash bulbs that had you seeing blue dots for two hours afterward, so much so that you couldn’t tell if it was Aunt Agnes or Uncle Fred trying to give you that “birthday” kiss.
After all the tests you are shuffled to the main showroom where there are hundreds of frames. You can browse the wide selection for your next pair of glasses. Now this is absolutely the last thing that I need; I would have a hard time making a choice from small selection. Perhaps they have read my stories and know how difficult this is for me. So still reeling from the mildly blinding light, I am expected to pick two or three frames from the wall. Then the pleasant technician does attempt to reduce those choices down to one pair. From there it is done, just waiting the short time until the glasses are complete and ready for me to pick up.
After a few days of getting used to the new frames and lenses, you are seeing things as good as you did when you were younger. Also the new stylish frames create a rather distinguished look. I am happy again. Now when I pick up a can of potato chips, by golly I get potato chips. Simple things make me happy!