“I don’t get why you’re putting on makeup for an eye appointment,” Tom said, making a face.
“Because the eye doctor is usually inches away from your face when he’s examining your eyes. I don’t want him to think, ‘Ew, clogged pores!’” I explained simply as I swiped on some blush.
Yes. I had an eye appointment. I was past due. The last time I went it was 2007 and the world barely paid attention to the Gosselin family. It was a beautiful time, really.
Anyhow, when I got to the eye clinic I was called back to do some eye tests. The one I dread the most is when a puff of air goes into your eye. I was so busy dreading this that whenever the woman told me to move to my left, I went to my right.
“Your other left!” she’d giggle.
I wanted to say, “Lady, I know right from left, I’m just nervous because of the puff of air.”
When it came time for the dreaded puff test, she said, “Here comes everyone’s favorite part!” and brought out this white handheld thing. I think she was joking. I hope she was joking. She was joking, right?
“Now, I’ll come to you….no, please don’t lean back, you must stay still. Please stop leaning back!” She still sounded cheerful but her voice had a strain to it. It was the same tone I use with Tom when he humps me from behind the second I bend over. (“Tom, please don’t do that. You’re 27. It’s no longer cute. All I’m trying to do is unload the dishwasher. There is nothing sexy about this.”)
I hadn’t realized I was leaning back by the way. But, you see, that machine thing was kind of scary looking. It was white with this tip thing that sort of reminded me of a pistol barrel. I knew it was going to put a puff of air into my eye. So I was instinctively moving back. (Ahhh, scary machine! Ahhh, puff of air!)
“Sorry,” I said, forcing myself to hold still as she came at me.
“Now, look at the line inside,” she said. She actually wanted me to put my eye against the pistol barrel.
Puff of air, when is the puff of air going to happen, I don’t LIKE the puff of air...
“You’re moving away from me again.”
I was? Oh.
“Sorry,” I said and gripped the sides of the chair. I can do this. It’s just a little puff of air. I gave birth twice for craps sake. I can deal with a tiny puff in the—
“AHHHH!” I said as the puff of air went into my eye.
I made the woman jump too.
“Are you okay?” she said, putting a hand to her heart.
“Yes. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I felt obliged to ask. She looked freaked.
“I’m great,” she said, but she didn’t sound convincing.
Okay, I can’t yelp this time, I nearly gave the poor woman a heart attack, it’s just a puff of air, just a tiny one, calm down, it’ll be okay, it’ll be--
Yeah. Second puff of air.
The woman giggled nervously. “You’re a jumpy one,” she observed.
Yeah. I am.
“Sorry,” I said for the millionth time. I was tempted to offer her something from my purse. A mint? A chocolate? A coupon for twenty five cents off juice? But then I was whisked into another room.
I was given other eye tests. (Yay, I’m not color blind!)
Then the actual doctor came in and did the famous, “Which is clearer for you? One or two? Three or four?” test.
I always feel like I’m in French class and the teacher has just called on me and I have no idea what the answer is. Because sometimes I’m really not sure which is better. One? Or wait, maybe it was two, can you go back to one? I think three is better but…wait, four looks clearer so four.
Then I got the giggles because I remembered an episode of Family Guy where Jafar from Aladdin needed glasses.
When the doctor held up a light in front of my eyes, he asked where we lived.
It’s a little strange to speak when someone’s face is right next to yours, I must say. Then I kept wondering if my breath smelled. I should have asked if I could pop a Tic Tac in my mouth before he started.
“It looks like your retina is stretched,” the doctor said casually.
What does that mean?
“Am I going to go blind?” I shrieked. I mean, it didn’t sound good. A stretched retina? You don’t just calmly tell someone that their retina is stretched. Using the words ‘retina’ and ‘stretched’ in the same sentence is going to cause panic. Did he forget his bedside manner that he learned in medical school? Well, ophthalmology school I guess. And technically I wasn’t in a bed, I was in a chair but still…don’t they have chair side manner classes for the eye students?
“You’ll be fine. We’ll keep an eye on it. It’s just like that because of your high prescription.” The doctor was still acting like this was no big deal. He scribbled something down in my chart like it was an everyday thing.
Hi, I’m Amber and I have a stretched retina. How about you?
My eyesight sucks though. I guess I’m not surprised that my retina is enlarged. When you’re eyesight is something like -7.00/-7.00 nothing is surprising. I mean, I’m no longer in the positive numbers anymore. I’m in the negatives. That can’t be good. What am I going to be when I’m old? -1000/-1000? I wonder if I can convince people who do Lasik surgery to give it to me for free. To Lasik doctors: I’ll write about my experience in my blog and make you sound amazing.
After hearing the shocking news of my enlarged retina, I had to have pictures taken of my eye. I opted for that instead of dilatation. I cannot stand drops in my eye which means I’ll most likely freak out a little bit during the Lasik surgery. But in that case I’ll remind myself that my eyesight will be in the POSTIVES and not in the negatives so I’ll relax. Or try to. I’ll probably just think about John Krasinski knocking on my door and asking me if I want to hang out. Wait, why am I even talking about the Lasik surgery as though I’m going to have it? In order to have it, I have to fork over 3500 dollars. Where am I going to get 3500 dollars? Maybe John Krasinski can loan me 3500 dollars and in return I can do his dry cleaning. Well, not me personally, I’d just take it to the dry cleaners. And I’d totally pay for it myself. Then I’d bring it back to him because surely he has better things to do than pick up his dry cleaning?
Anyhow, the doctor checked out my eye pictures and showed me what he was talking about with my retina.
I think the technical term was myopic degeneration? I’m not sure, I don’t speak eye. Isn’t that a scary word though? Degeneration?
“So I’m not going blind?” I said nervously. If I were going blind, I’d want to know now so I can appreciate things. Like instead of yelling at antelope when they stand stupidly in front of my car, I can be all, “What beautiful creatures!” When Tom leaves his socks on the floor I could be all, “Aww, I’ll probably miss these when I can no longer see!” Actually, it’s good that I’m not going blind, I imagine I’d get on everyone’s nerves. They’d be all, “Amber, yes, the roads do look sparkly after it rains but no one else CARES!”
“You’re not going blind,” the doctor assured me, chuckling. “In fact, you eye looks really healthy right now.”
Then I was done. I decided I was going to get new glasses, because the ones I have now aren’t flattering. Plus they’ve been stretched, thanks to my daughter, so they sort of hang down my nose. I imagine I look like an old schoolmarm.
The doctor showed me the Optical shop. How’s that for service? I could have found it myself but he insisted.
“So here we are,” he said, sweeping his hand around the room. A bunch of glasses were set up in different display cases. “Our glasses range in prices from sixteen hundred dollars to one hundred.”
I nearly fell over.
Did he just say SIXTEEN HUNDRED DOLLARS for a pair of glasses?
“Sixteen hundred dollars?” I breathed out. “What, are they made out of gold?” I was totally joking but the doctor stroked his chin as though he were thinking about.
“Hmm, actually...perhaps one pair is...” he mumbled.
Oh. Well. Who wants to walk around wearing glasses with gold in them? I’d be worried someone would swipe them off my face and be all, “Yay, gold! It’s gone up in price!”
“So, Claudia here will help you find something. I have another patient. You have a wonderful day,” the doctor said before walking off.
“Thank you,” I said to his back. Thanks for telling me about my enlarged retina. It was a pleasure, really.
Claudia was this stick thin woman with piercing blue eyes. It’s not fair. Why can’t I have piercing blue eyes? I love blue eyes. Maybe they were contacts. They looked almost too blue.
“Um? Are you okay?” Claudia asked.
I hadn’t realized I was peering intently at her. Oops.
Then I started to try a bunch of different glasses on. It took forever.
I’ll write more about that when I finally get my glasses in.
Because yes, I finally settled on a pair.
They should be ready in about two weeks.
Hopefully I can get Tom to take flattering pictures of me in them. Usually when he snaps pictures of me I look like I have a double chin and a huge nose.
Or maybe that’s just how I look in general.