Falling Apart is Normal or Old Blind Mice Declared Normal

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for Bionic Restoration

Recently I went in for my annual eye exam.  I didn’t want to but there was this tiny black Roshak ink blot that kept floating across my eyeball.  And the numbers on the wall calendar were suddenly all double digits plus I was having trouble seeing the guide on our 55 inch TV screen.  Then there were the text messages that I had to have the ten-year-old read to me if I couldn’t find my Dollar Tree glasses.  Maybe the eye exam was needed.

I arrived for my appointment.  I was greeted and asked to verify my birthdate.  I noticed this time the receptionist omitted saying the year aloud.  I guess when she saw the year and looked at me, there was no doubt.

Then it was off to exam room number 1 or it might have been exam room number 11.  I didn’t have my readers on. 

“Stare at this light, don’t move your eyes.”  I did. 

 “Which line on the eye chart can you read?” Well, first I had to locate the wall containing the eyechart.  I assumed it was the wall opposite me with the white rectangle must be the eye chart to which she was referring, but how was I supposed to read any letters with these black/blue sun spots from her flashlight swimming around in my eyes?  I just smiled and picked a line with an equal number of dots and with the least number of sun spots on it.

Using my great powers of deduction, I guessed that if the letter looked like a donut it was an O, D, P, Q, or G.  That gave me a 5 in 26 chance of getting it right.  Of course the odds changed significantly if the dot looked like some Pick-up Sticks thrown on the wall.  That could be an A, B, C, E, F, H, I, K, M, N, R, T, V, W, X, Y, or Z.

Then it was “Does it look better number three or number four?”  She skipped right over one and two.  Ok, nobody defined “better”.  Yes three was darker than then four and stood out more, but four had more space between the dot/blobs.  I guessed three.  That must have been the wrong number because she then progressed to “Better seven or eight?”  What happened to five and six?  Five and six might have been the right number.  “Better eight or nine?”  “Better ten or fourteen?” “Better 16 or 39?”  I glanced over to make sure she was still checking my eyes and not picking her lottery numbers. 

“Tell me when you can’t read the letters.”

“Now.”

After clicking the little dials for five minutes and not finding the psysic radio station and after selecting all the numbers she needed for the Power Ball, she said “Alright, any questions?”

Uh, yes.  “What about seeing double letters?” 

“That is normal.”

“I have trouble seeing the guide on our 200 inch TV screen.”

“That’s normal.”

“I can read the highway signs but not the speedometer.”

“That’s normal. You do have the beginnings of cataracts but that is normal for your age.”    

Ok, Dr. Hubby thinks I’m blind as those mice.  I see blue circles and double digits, have floating sun spots,  can’t see the TV guide, text messages look like donuts and Pick-up Sticks, and I have the beginnings of cataracts but I am normal.   

Next week it is the dermatologist, the dentist, and the orthopedic specialist.  Dang!   What if they say I am normal? 

Normal ain’t what it used to be!

 

 

The Eyes Have It!

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved for 400 strength readers

No, this is not about son's eyeball flipping around. This is about my eyes and I haven't rolled my eyes around in my head since I was a teenager. This is about my recent eye exam.

My first eye exam took place when I was a junior in high school and the only reason I went to the eye doctor then was because I kept typing the same line over and over (I am a very fast typist so I don't read what I type as I am sure you are aware if you have read more than one of my blogs.) With that problem corrected, I didn't go back for about twenty years; then every ten years, five years, and now in the latter half century every six months it seems.

This time I was screened for glaucoma. I think one of the technicians, probably a former student that failed my class, must have seen me practicing my curb jumping and told the secretary to send me a card suggesting an appointment and screening for severe peripheral vision defects. I put on the one-eyed pirate mask and proceeded to click a button every time I saw a flash or as the techie suggested "Every time you think you see a flash." So is this a mental test or an eye test?

This was followed by, as the techie, said "Eyeball pressure check". I think the kid must have worked summers at a tire store. This was followed by the Sesame Street portion of the exam. "Is it better this way? Or that way? Better #1 or #2? Better #3 or #4?" I wanted to say "Better without the yellow numbing junk you squirted in my eye and the Star Wars Intergalactic light explosions I was subjected to earlier" but I didn't. I just said "One, two, two, one, no difference."

This was followed by a half hour wait to see the doctor. I tried to watch the educational DVD that was playing but all I could see were purple dots dancing across the screen.

Finally I saw the doctor. He hummed, hum? Oh, hum! and then declared me fine. I then asked "What about the double vision I have after reading a paperback book?" "Hum?" He looked at my chart, raised his eyebrows and said "At your age, I would suggest stronger readers and maybe these eye drops."

I was feeling pretty good about the results of the exam and miffed about the "at your age" remark until he added, still scrutinizing my chart, "You know, you don't look your age. You look at the most 55." That last remark, while flattering, didn't exactly instill confidence in his ability to see. I left thinking to myself, he needs to make an appointment with Darth Vader, the tire guy, and the Sesame Street drop out if he thinks I look 55!"

Oh well, six months and I get to do all this again. Hope it doesn't change to every three months.