I Hate The Eye Doctor

When I say I hate the eye doctor, I don’t mean a specific person. It’s a noble enough profession, though I’ve had my fair share of asshat optometrists. Anyway, it’s been a while since I’ve gone because I hate the drops. Everytime my eyes get dilated, I imagine that scene from Zombie (even before I saw the movie, somehow). It’s gross, so don’t watch it if that kind of thing bothers you.

So, as you might expect, I haven’t gone to the eye doctor since I left home, which puts me at almost five years. My eyes aren’t too bad, I can’t see distance very well and have had glasses for driving since I went to college (the jerk doctor I mentioned before made me feel like an ass for not thinking I needed glasses because I was always told I had 20/20 vision AND YOU CAN’T TELL WHEN YOUR EYES ARE BAD BECAUSE THAT’S JUST HOW YOU SEE! Sorry, there’s still some pent up anger there. Anyway, when the missus got her rad new job, she also got eye insurance so the combined forces of her and my mom sending me a series of Target gift cards (one for making the appointment, one for going and one for getting drops) got me to finally make an appointment. Of course, I was paranoid and got up early to take care of all my writing assignments, just in case I wouldn’t be able to see for the rest of the day. It’s hard to type when this is what the world looks like:My already poor typing skills would be a lot worse if I couldn’t make out the keys from Milo’s tail (plus I’d get bitten which would be insult to injury). So the appointment was at 2. I went in early, filled out all the forms and sat reading a Wired from December, where this ad made me laugh out loud to the point where the lady sitting there with her kid gave me an odd look. The Justice League T-shirt probably didn’t help either. Vintage mullet photos! Oh, plus an app that finds all the Nazi-loving bondage babes in the area. 100% Jesse James y’all! I’m sure T-Mobile and Google are glad they locked that one down. Eventually, after checking out my insurance and whatever, I went back to the room that, I swear to God, looks like this. Looks like something out of Saw, no? It wasn’t really that scary in person, but there was a machine that the doc asked me to put my face up against that I thought was just looking deep into my eyes and then it blew a tiny burst of air at me! Gah! It was worse with the second eye because I knew it was coming, but didn’t want to screw up the test. Then we did the basic “can you read the letters” thing. I thought about looking at his little computer panel thing while he was making a phone call and impressing the shit out of him, but figured that wouldn’t help me out in the long run. After that, he did the “which is better 1 or 7?” which always makes me feel like George Michael from Arrested Development.

As it turned out, all my worrying was for naught as he didn’t even mention giving me eye drops to dilate my eyes. Now I just need to play video games and blog till the missus gets home and go pick out my new frames, which will also, hopefully, involve a trip to Target! Woo hoo!

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