Trip to the eye doctor, or You think you're gonna poke my eye with THAT??

OK. lemme preface this with some backstory.

In the '70's there seemed to be a preponderance of horror films in which someone gets their eyeball poked out with something sharp...and we get to view it at fingers length and in super slo-mo...think football had the slo-mo first? Hell no, it was Vincent Price. A big wooden splinter here, a poor sap tied to a rack with a pointy thingy on wheels sitting on a track aimed straight at the guy's......you got it, his eyeballs there. Not his nether regions which would have been comedy relief, but straight at his oh so pokable eye full of eye juice. The inevitable puncturesplat in PeckinpaughVision seared into my young impressionable brain; forever pushing out the memories of my innocent youth.

So today I had an appointment with the opthom..opthamal..ok eye doctor..can't say I didn't try.

I had this appointment because The Establishment has decided to save ink and paper by printing labels, boxes, medicine bottles..you get it...smaller now. Which in turn makes us have to get help to see these things with so we don't OD on those little blue pills and actually do get "stuck" for hours in 5th gear. A good old magnifying glass isn't good enough anymore, we want to see things ACROSS the street. See, cavemen didn't live long because they couldn't see the polar bear coming. It was, and still is, a built-in "Logan's Run" kind of thing. "When you can't see it coming, you deserved it. " Then some smartass named Franklin came up with little magnifying glasses that one can actually put on their face and hold a weapon at the same damn time! I feel this is where we went bad. Next thing you know, a guy's living in an iron lung and playing pool. Yikes. If my life depends on being plugged into a wall somewhere, come pull it out and cut the end off so some "Good Samaritan" won't plug it back.....ok I think I'm drifting here.

So I get to the ophthalmologist (yeah, i looked it up) today driving my "new" '82 VW Rabbit convertible already running Vincent Price through my head. Inside, naturally, it's a calm soothing environment. More propaganda. Everyone's so pleasant and helpful. Sure sure. Like THAT happens all the time. Within minutes I meet the doctor. Turns out the doctor is some young man who could have been in my son's high school 5 years ago. (Now, understand at this point I'm not concerned about his age like some would be as far as experience and such would go....I'm amazed that The Establishment can get to them so quickly.) I'm pointed to a little room with a big chair. You know the one. Part barber chair/part Iron Maiden. Doc gets all friendly and suspiciously knows what I've been thinking about...a Brian Regan skit about going to the eye doctor. More conspiracy. I'm trapped in the web now...I'm on the grid. After we play the "Which is better...1 or 2" game for a few minutes (I won't go into detail, my heart can't take reliving it just yet) Doc starts explaining how now I have to have glasses with 3..count 'em 3 different sight distance magnifications. Ah, now we're getting deeper...I need THREE different settings!!! More dependency! I'm going to look like one of those little dogs you put in the back window of your car with the head that bobs up and down when I try to see....a link to the chiropractor kickback scandal I've been formulating? You decide.

Then Doc starts in with the "eye drops"..."This may sting a little. I'm going to numb your eye." Holy crap! NUMB MY EYE?? What the heck does that even feel like? I won't be able to tell if I need to blink? Images of dried up jellyfish on the Texas coast jump to mind. Then he tells me he's going to also "dilate" them...die-a-late. Yeah, you figure out that one. Then he comes at me with the stick. The pointy thing on the rails right at me, and he actually says "Keep you eyes open." Now, I've gone against my natural instincts once or twice, but when it comes to something about to POKE MY EYE...well let's say it's not as easy as trying not to breath...or fly. But since I'm in the chair already and Doc is actually making it easier (damn, how are they doing that??) eventually the stupid little stick beeps and it's over.

Now that I'm out of the "chamber", I get to pick my frames. Well, I don't care what they look like, I don't have to see them, just through them. So I get more great help (uh oh, i'm losing my unrest!) so I don't end up looking like I went to the bargain basement of We-B-Frames. And get this! I get to have sun glasses for my new convertible too! They sure are making it easy...they GOTTA be up to something!

Last part of the visit involved some really bright lights and I think someone in a miner's hat...I believe the eye drops affected my memory. I can feel them eating away my brain even now. But everything is so bright now! My daisies are whiter than ever!

Yeah, so I paid to get a poke in the eye. Coulda been worse. Coulda been a poke in the ass.

But that's another story.