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Crazy Eyes

January 11, 2011
I waited here for the Rx on my glasses to be checked

Last Friday I went into Boston for my dilated eye exam.  I haven’t been in two years, but I wasn’t nervous about the actual results, just the process.  The woman who tested my eyes and gave me my drops was very nice, and she had a funny accent, making my name sound really cool, but she had approximately 5 runs in her tights, and this was at 8:30 in the morning!  And then she couldn’t walk in her heels.  So yes, at first glance she looked very professional, but I was a little skeptical as to how good she actually was.  And beyond that, I had no problems.  We did the “what’s the smallest line you can read?” We talked about why I haven’t been to the eye doctor in two years (I was scheduled to go, but then a new full time job got in the way), and then she needed pictures or something with this thing:

My biggest problem was when that clear thing needed to be nearly in my eye

The woman had to hold my head against the bar because as that clear thing came closer to my eyes, I backed my head away.  When I rub my eyes, or put my contacts in, the item coming towards my eye is soft and I have control over it.  She was sending this hard, plastic thing flying (or so it seemed) to my eyes.  She was getting frustrated with me, because she had to do it at least three times for each eye.  I feel as though this should be a common reaction, but based on her reaction, it seems it is not.  Am I the only one who cannot handle this?  She put the dilation drops in and then I was on my way to wait in the next office.

This was the size of the print on my nookcolor  during dilation and in Starbucks

I was nervous to meet my new doctor, but as soon as she walked in the door, I was comfortable.  She checked to see how dilated my eyes were, and then asked why I am so specific as to when I can have a doctor’s appointment.  I told her how I’m a nanny, so she started talking to me about how when her kids were younger, they had nannies too. “Is it really true that the kids are really well behaved until we walk in the door?”  Yes!  And then, “holy crap, your eyes are perfect.  Have you really had diabetes for 22 years?”  (I don’t think of myself as having diabetes for 22 years yet, but if you go solely by the year of the diagnosis date, it seems like 22 years.)  Yes, my glasses are based purely on heredity because my father and his side of the family all have glasses, and now a bunch of us in my generation have them too.  And while I was expecting the “your eyes are perfect,” result, I wasn’t expecting to feel so good about it.  I think I’ve reached the point where I appreciate all the good things, especially diabetes things, because I don’t know when they will change.  

The size of my eyes when I got in my car, and I was already seeing so much better!
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