I hate visiting the eye doctor. It’s a terrible experience. Half of the time I fail the glaucoma air puff test because I anticipate the burst and my eyes start to water.
Then they decide they need to stab my eye with a pen to get a better read. Talk about anxiety attack.
So, I have terrible eye sight. So bad that I’m pretty sure optometrists tell their workers that I’m a freak of nature that they only experience once in a lifetime.
I went to my appointment and they ran the usual initial tests. Then the teenage girl takes my glasses to get a read of my prescription. It took her at least 15 minutes. When she came back she apologized for having to run the test twice because she couldn’t believe how extreme my prescription was.
I laughed and joked that I was all but blind and tried to keep my tears and anxiety on the inside. But my experience had just begun.
She took me to a different room and proceeded to take me through reading the chart. You know, the one with all of the letters.
After I suffered through it, she told me to remove my glasses and read the smallest line…
I laughed just so I wouldn’t cry. Then I told her that I knew the big E was there, but I couldn’t even squint to make it out. She asked if I was sure and stood by this procedure for both eyes.
After she couldn’t believe I couldn’t see the big E, she stood in front of me and asked how many fingers she was holding up. Yeah. I couldn’t see that either.
I wish I was making this up, but I figured someone would find humor in my tragic experience. Ha! Even I’m laughing because not even I could make this stuff up.
So as you have your coffee this morning as I am, just remember to laugh at yourself; because everyone else has already been laughing.