Annual eye exams are a stressful time of year for me. One or two: which is better? I don’t know! They both look blurry to me. I look at the the lines on the F – or is it an E – and try to guess in which version the lines look more distinguishable. After about fifteen slides, my eyes get tired and my ability to rank the clarity of a few letters is shot.
This is the situation I found myself in a few days ago. The assistant tapped her long, plastic fingernails as she asked me what medications I was currently taking. I don’t know why I bothered to tell her; I glanced over at the list she was writing down and she did not spell any of them correctly. Some were unrecognizable, inconceivable spellings.
Then she turned on the projector and asked me to read the letters shown. Clickity-clack with her fake nails turning some knobs, and she asked me which was better: one or two.
“Two,” I answered.
Clickity-clack again followed by, “Which is better: two or four?”
Great. This incompetent cannot spell or count and yet, in her hands I am placing my ability to see for the next year. Of course the doctor eventually came in and spent 1.47 minutes with me.
Today I was back with the incompetent and the doctor. “Keep your eyes open while we stick a wire in your tear duct,” they said. “Look up.”
I am trying, but on a good day it is hard to stare at a florescent light inches above my head. Now you are sliding wires into my tear ducts. What is it with doctors and their fascination with orifices?