Taking a twist today on Dickens' classic A Christmas Carol: I am legally blind. If anything is to be taken from this story, the reader must understand that.
Rochelle, have a seat over here. Now what kind of contacts do you wear?
I'm prepared for an overdue visit to the optometrist and have brought the boxes for my extended wear contacts with me. I take them out of my purse and proudly hand them to the optician. She sees the prescription, her eyes widen and she scribbles something down.
Do you have your glasses with you, because you'll need to take contacts out of your eyes now.
Dangit. I left my glasses at home.
I take out my contacts anyway and prepare myself for the little puff of air in each eye...with full expectation of putting my contacts back in once it's over. To my surprise, the optician orders:
Have a seat over there and the doctor will be right out.
Uh...without my contacts? And, over where? All I see are fuzzy colors against a backdrop of some indiscriminate ecru. I tip-toe over and have the seat "over there".
At least a minute had passed and fuzzy, lumpy, colorful shapes were whirring by me. WHERE IS THE DOCTOR FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.
OMG. ARE PEOPLE LOOKING AT ME? ARE THEY LAUGHING? Seriously, where is the doctor.
Uh, Ma'am...we need for you to... (unintelligible).
I'm sorry, WHAT?
BECAUSE I CAN'T HEAR YOU BECAUSE I'M LEGALLY BLIND BECAUSE YOU TOOK AWAY MY CONTACTS BECAUSE I LEFT MY GLASSES AT HOME.
No ma'am, I'm talking to the customer next to you. The doctor will be with you shortly.
WAIT. THERE'S SOMEBODY NEXT TO ME?
Things that went through my mind at this point:
What did people do in Bible times without glasses?
Was this the kind of blind Jesus healed with mud, because if it is, I could use some of that mud right now.
My daughter is with me. She can see: why didn't I force her to get her license this summer?
Maybe I could Uber a ride home for both of us...IF I COULD SEE MY PHONE.
Crap. I left my phone at home.
Seriously. Where is the doctor.
About 24 hours later, the doctor comes out. He must've looked at my chart because he says
Hi Rochelle...just feel your way back to my office.
I follow the colorful, lumpy haze someplace down a lonnnng dark hall. Three days later, I'm seated in that chair with all the doo-hickees that draw him nearly onto my lap, but ultimately results in sight for the legally-blind.
He clicks a couple of clicks on those binocular thingees, and in that moment, I can see and become the overzealous senior citizen who sees resemblance in the kid in front her and her second cousin twice removed: Oh there's your face! Nice to meet you!
We do the eye exam thing and I find out that, not only has my prescription changed, but it's too strong. Yeah. I don't understand that either.
Anyway Doctor Feel Your Way Back To My Office leads me out to an area to try on a trial pair of the new contacts. I silently say a prayer of thanks for living in the age of technology.
It's true that I'm legally blind, but I knew it could be fixed soon, unlike the unending reality for thousands of people who have low-vision, impaired vision or blindness. I can giggle about my own experience -- a vulnerable, uncomfortable feeling that I could stand for barely twenty minutes, much less a lifetime.
If anything is to be taken from this story, the reader must understand that.
Rochelle, have a seat over here. Now what kind of contacts do you wear?
I'm prepared for an overdue visit to the optometrist and have brought the boxes for my extended wear contacts with me. I take them out of my purse and proudly hand them to the optician. She sees the prescription, her eyes widen and she scribbles something down.
Do you have your glasses with you, because you'll need to take contacts out of your eyes now.
Dangit. I left my glasses at home.
 |
| The glasses I should've brought with me. |
I take out my contacts anyway and prepare myself for the little puff of air in each eye...with full expectation of putting my contacts back in once it's over. To my surprise, the optician orders:
Have a seat over there and the doctor will be right out.
Uh...without my contacts? And, over where? All I see are fuzzy colors against a backdrop of some indiscriminate ecru. I tip-toe over and have the seat "over there".
At least a minute had passed and fuzzy, lumpy, colorful shapes were whirring by me. WHERE IS THE DOCTOR FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.
OMG. ARE PEOPLE LOOKING AT ME? ARE THEY LAUGHING? Seriously, where is the doctor.
Uh, Ma'am...we need for you to... (unintelligible).
I'm sorry, WHAT?
BECAUSE I CAN'T HEAR YOU BECAUSE I'M LEGALLY BLIND BECAUSE YOU TOOK AWAY MY CONTACTS BECAUSE I LEFT MY GLASSES AT HOME.
No ma'am, I'm talking to the customer next to you. The doctor will be with you shortly.
WAIT. THERE'S SOMEBODY NEXT TO ME?
Things that went through my mind at this point:
What did people do in Bible times without glasses?
Was this the kind of blind Jesus healed with mud, because if it is, I could use some of that mud right now.
My daughter is with me. She can see: why didn't I force her to get her license this summer?
Maybe I could Uber a ride home for both of us...IF I COULD SEE MY PHONE.
Crap. I left my phone at home.
Seriously. Where is the doctor.
About 24 hours later, the doctor comes out. He must've looked at my chart because he says
Hi Rochelle...just feel your way back to my office.
I follow the colorful, lumpy haze someplace down a lonnnng dark hall. Three days later, I'm seated in that chair with all the doo-hickees that draw him nearly onto my lap, but ultimately results in sight for the legally-blind.
He clicks a couple of clicks on those binocular thingees, and in that moment, I can see and become the overzealous senior citizen who sees resemblance in the kid in front her and her second cousin twice removed: Oh there's your face! Nice to meet you!
We do the eye exam thing and I find out that, not only has my prescription changed, but it's too strong. Yeah. I don't understand that either.
Anyway Doctor Feel Your Way Back To My Office leads me out to an area to try on a trial pair of the new contacts. I silently say a prayer of thanks for living in the age of technology.
It's true that I'm legally blind, but I knew it could be fixed soon, unlike the unending reality for thousands of people who have low-vision, impaired vision or blindness. I can giggle about my own experience -- a vulnerable, uncomfortable feeling that I could stand for barely twenty minutes, much less a lifetime.
If anything is to be taken from this story, the reader must understand that.
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