Breaking news at the eye exam

It's been three and a half years since I've had an eye exam. For the last several months, my previous eyeglass prescription has seemed horribly out-of-date and I've managed to convince myself that the furrow developing between my eyebrows is from all the squinting I'm doing due to the myopia and astigmatism encroaching on me as I age. So, Monday I scheduled an eye exam and got an appointment for Tuesday afternoon.

Now, let me back up and explain that I haven't been to the eye doctor for two reasons. The first one is that things have been crazy busy and I haven't had time, and the second reason is that I can't stand my eye doctor. He has absolutely no bed, or rather, chair side manner. The ladies that work in his office are super friendly and great, but the good doctor? Not so much.

In the first place, it's not like I'm comfortable going to a doctor of any kind anyway, because, well, frankly, I'm a huge hypochondriac. The heart racing, sweaty palms, mumble mouth kind. Because, underlying it all, I'm expecting them to tell me that my eyeballs are rotting out of my head. Or, I've got early onset glaucoma, stage three cataracts and am developing a severe case of aggressive macular degeneration, the likes never seen before in someone my age. And that it's too bad that I won't be able to see my children when they are older, but I can at least remember how their faces look now.

You see, 5-6 years ago I was absolutely convinced I was going blind. When I looked in a certain way I had an enormously huge, gaping blind spot, the kind that sucked up a good portion of my visual field. I don't know how I stumbled upon looking just so to see this visual black hole, but once I knew how to find it, I exercised the option often. Which always sent me into a panic. And, so, fully believing I had a brain tumor or, at the very least a severed optic nerve, I went in search of answers. I guess we all have a blind spot, unless you are a cephalopod. I don't know why I am able to see it so darn readily. It must be some magical talent of mine. Now that I know it's supposed to be there, I can't say that I try to find it as often anymore.

Anyway, Tuesday afternoon I saunter into the eye doctor, trying to be all casual like, chit-chatting it up with the receptionist; and then sit down to control my breathing once I'm placed in the stark empty, dark room with the exam apparatus looming overhead. The doctor comes in, making idle comments about the weather or something, clearly uninterested in his own comments as well as my response. I suspect he's had this exact same conversation multiple times already since lunch. I get slightly castigated for waiting so long in between eye exams, and then the queries begin.

No, I am not experiencing headaches. No, I am not having problems with scratchy or dry eyes. No, I don't take any medications, etc. I'm just here for a new prescription because my eyesight has drastically deteriorated and my current spectacles are no longer of use to me. Can't you see all this squinting is causing early aging? So, get on with it already before I stroke out in your chair.

Then the eye exam begins. He starts shining the light in my eye and begins heavy breathing in my ear and I have the massive misfortune of remembering the routine from Brian Regan's stand-up comedy about getting an eye exam. And I have to literally control myself from exploding in laughter. Seriously, I had to contract my stomach since I was about to launch into a major case of The Giggles.

I manage to escape my fit of hysteria and the exam proceeds. I am instructed to "not try so hard" and to "relax", which is difficult if you've ever tried to fend off The Giggles. After all the: "Which is better, number 1 or number 2? Number 3 or number 4? Number 5 or number 6?" routine, he does the glaucoma test. Now, I hate having anything anywhere near my eyes. I blink like Cybil Shepard with hot cinders in her eyes, making it impossible for this test to be performed and it happens every. single. time. I make some witty joke and he responds with some heated remark about my particular eye condition. Alrighty, then.

After all this, he goes through my results. As he starts in, things portend to be rather ominous. I am, of course, expecting him to go over the good news first, before he drops the "I expect you to be legally blind before 40" diagnosis. I can't really tell what his audible frustration is about and am expecting something serious here, but I get a clean bill of eye health - no glaucoma. So, I assume my rapid degeneration in vision is at issue and listen distractedly as he goes over my changes in vision.

He starts with a flatly stated, rote explanation of what astigmatism is and I am, finally, offered new lenses if I want to see a slight improvement, but it won't be very noticeable. Apparently, my prescription hasn't exactly changed much to warrant getting new lenses. On my way out, I ask the optician what my vision is since the doctor wasn't too forthcoming with that sort of information. I'm expecting something like, 20/200.

Turns out it's 20/25. Damn, I'm getting blind in my old age.