Wednesday, April 27, 2005


Went to the eye doctor today. I decided I'd like to be able to see at night when I drive, so I better get some new glasses.

Everything went fine until the Dr. tried to put some drops in my eyes. The problem was two-fold. I don't do eye drops well at all, no matter who is trying to get them in there - AND - he told me what the drops were for before he gave them to me:

"These will numb your eyes. After that, I'm then going to take this thing here [shows me fat pencil looking contraption with a sorta point on it], and poke you on the eyeball with it. You won't feel it. It will tell me the pressure in your eye."

NUMB EYES? What exactly is that going to feel like? And no thanks, I'd rather not. Then there's the whole poke me in the eye with that thing? No. Nonononono.

Had I thought they were just dialation drops, I would have still been fidgity, but less so.

I warned him that now my body was going to do everything it could to keep him the hell away from my eyes, but he just pshaw'd me and said "Thanks for the warning, but you won't feel a thing."

So he tried once. And got closed eye with attitude.

He tried again, this time saying "...just open them a little, I SWEAR IT WON'T HURT." while trying to pry my eyelids open and position the dropper.

This is when I heard him sigh in frustration.

And he made his approach again - and this time it worked! One eye down and one more to go.

So he went for the other eye, and as a reflex my right leg shot straight out. He was on the side of me, so it wasn't like I kicked him - but it distracted him and made me giggle. So he stopped, and tried again - and my leg shot out AGAIN.

He finally got the drops in the right places and my eyes did indeed, go numb. I couldn't feel myself blink. So then I became fascinated with the blinking - which MADE IT IMPOSSIBLE FOR HIM TO GET THE POKEY THING ONTO MY EYEBALL. Actually, he did manage after a while, but I'm pretty sure it was the longest 15 minutes he's ever spent on that test.

After he pronounced me finished, he set me down at the desk of the Frame Lady.

She was sassy. She would give me sample frames to put on. I could have told her I wanted to chose my own, but I really have no idea what I would like or what wouldn't look totally ridiculous. After the previous hour of "better? or worse?", where I had to keep asking for do overs, I wasn't about to pick something all on my own that I'd have to wear on my face for at least a year.

Sometimes she would hang her head in defeat and silently reach out for the rejected pair. Other times she would say "no..that doesn't EEExhhhite me.", "Too big/small/wide/wrong color". The curt and solitary "no" was always quickly followed by another pair for her to evaluate.

We (she) finally found a pair she announced as "peehrfect!" I suppose we will find out when they come in.

How does one become a Frame Picking person? And full time at that? How do you qualify for that job? Do they take an oath that they will not purposely send clueless, eyeball shy customers away with a scary set of frames and claim they are fashionable?

Don't get me wrong, I realize it's up to me and I ultimately have control. I don't have to be fashionable, but I'd prefer to at least look good if I can. But there is a degree of skill in knowing what shapes/colors/styles will complement someone - and I don't have it. She does. And that power could so easily be used for evil.

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