Bad Pupil

Yesterday evening I had my annual appointment with my eye doctor. All I wanted was to get my darn contact lenses refilled. But in order to do that, I had to endure a slew of tests that I dread more than a trip to the dentist office. Don't get me wrong, my eye doctor is a nice guy, good at what he does. It's just the nature of the visit that I detest.

Let's take a look, shall we, at the plethora of tests you, too, can enjoy when visiting the eye doctor:

The Eye Chart Test
I know it sounds silly, but I start to break out in a sweat when they tell me it's time to stand behind that piece of tape on the floor. I feel like I'm back in college, getting ready to take a final exam. I feel such pressure to pass this test, even though my eyes are physically incapable of such. Read the smallest line you can, the technician says, but being the overachiever I am, I go for the smallest, and I fail miserably. Each time, I ask if I can give it another try, knowing this defeats the purpose of the exam since they want an accurate read of my current eyesight. Without my contacts, I cannot even see the big E on the eye chart. I know it's supposed to be there, but I just see a faint black smudge. Ever wonder why they always use the big E? We all know it's E, it was an E last year, it was an E 10 years ago, shouldn't they switch it up a little?

The Dang-Near-Shoot-Your-Eye-Out Test
You know it, you hate it, too. The glaucoma test - the one where the technician shoots a puff of air in your eye to test the pressure. There is something very sacrificial about this one. The technician asks you to basically set yourself up in the perfect position to be a target. Her target. Place your chin on the rest, press your head forward, and sit still so I can shoot a blast of air right into your eyeball. You know it's coming, any second now- Whap! I swear, every time it nearly knocks me off my chair. You just can't prepare yourself for that. At least I can't.

The Red-Light, Red-Light, Stop-It-Already Test
We know we don't have eyeballs in the back of our heads, but you should have one on the side, right?! This is the peripheral vision test. Lean forward and press your head against this button. Now look straight ahead. Is the light to your left or right? I know where it is, buddy, and it annoys me like an unrelenting fly. Instead of telling you where it is, why don't you just give me a fly-swatter please?

The Pop-Up-Test
This one, I assume, is to test your depth perception. There are various groupings of circles and you have to identify which circle is raised. It looks just like an electronic version of Whack-a-Mole. I just want to ask, Where's my mallet?! Yeah, it's probably not a good idea to give me weaponry of any kind in the mood that I'm in, lady.

The I-See-a-Color-That-You-Don't-See-and-the-Color-of-It-is-49 Test
The purpose of this test is to out those who are colorblind. If you fail, you get a permission slip to wear mismatched clothes for the rest of your life. That is unless you have a significant other who is not disabled in this way, and in that case you must defer all clothing decisions to them. It's the law. In this test, there are several clusters of colored dots, in the center of which is a number that is made up of different colored dots. Identify that number! I wrote the numbers down afterwards and I'm going to use them to play the lotto.

The My-Pupil-Ate-My-Iris Test
Luckily, this one doesn't have to be done every year. And it's a good thing or I would probably still be wearing my lavender, stop-sign shaped frames from back in 1988 to avoid a revisit. It's the pupil-dilation test. The technician puts in these eyedrops, apparently defects from Michael Jackson's Thriller video, so that your pupils nearly overtake the color/iris of your eye. The drops sting a little, but that is the least of my problems with this. Everything up close becomes a total blur, to the point that I become nauseous. After getting these drops, I tried to check my cell phone for missed calls while in the exam room waiting for the doctor. I felt like I was on some acid trip (well, what I imagine an acid trip must feel like) - the numbers on the phone were doing the Electric Slide. I thought it was a little curious that the technician literally ran out of the exam room after assaulting me with these drops. That little chicken...

The How-Close-Can-I-Possibly-Get-to-Your-Face Test
Now things start to get more technical, and personal, so they bring in the big guns. The optome-natrix, I mean optometrist. The MD. They are MDs, right? This is one of the parts I hate the most. The invasion-of-my-personal-space phase of the visit. I mean, I know every doctor has to touch you physically, and that's fine, but with eye doctors, they are so up in your face, close and personal more than any other. Within seconds of Hello, the lights are turned off, the flashlight stick comes out, and his face literally gets so close to mine that I could count his nostril hairs. I mean, can't you take me out to dinner or something first? And of course it is when we are nostril-to-nostril that the doctor decides to have a conversation with me. Doesn't he know that I cannot respond because I am holding my breath to avoid any unwanted odor?

The Gimme-An-Answer-Now, I-Said-Now Test
For this one, the doctor swings what I swear is my dad's old set of binoculars in front of my face and starts swapping out lenses for me to look through. And then starts the marathon. Deep breath, and here we go! Which one is better? This one....or is it this one? This one or this one? Or how about this one or this one? Now that one or this one? Gimme some time, dude! Pant, pant. I haven't been to the gym much since I had the kids. I swear, at times I thought I heard the Final Jeopardy music playing in the background, egging me on to give a quicker answer. The best part about this test is when he swings that lens machine back out of my way, I know I'm almost done. The final stretch. I start to hear Chariot of Fire and I envision myself running out, slow-mo.

The Wasn't-That-All-Worth-It-Now Test
By this time, the doctor has written out the presciption refilll. I go back to see the technician to get fitted for the lenses. I put them on and then go full circle to where I started - to that piece of tape on the floor to take the E-Chart test again. But this time, yes, this time it's supposed to be a happy, feel-good test - the Look-What-the-Doctor-Did-for-Me Test! This time, I feel even more pressure to pass, so as not to let down the good doctor. Just one day, however, I wanna say, I can't see crap now! What the heck did you do to me today???

I've been wearing contact lenses for 24 years now. Twenty-four years of these visits. I think it might be time to consider Lasik.