After the 50 minute wait and the mandatory FBI check on your health insurance and credit history…
You are seated in a serious chair (eerily similar to the one in the movie “Marathon Man“) and a never-ending series of drops (curiously resembling the dyes used to color Easter eggs) are plopped into your eyes.
Interestingly, some people become oddly flustered and challenged by performance anxiety when instructed to read the eye chart (perhaps because they are anticipating how much fun it will be to drive home after the appointment when unable to differentiate between a parked school bus and a traffic cone).
Please tell me, what happens to the I.Q. when the ophthalmologist tries out different strength lenses in the bizarre binocular contraption we look through?
DR: “Which one is clearer – 1 or 2?
ME: (total guess) 2?
DR: 2 or 3?
ME: (hell, I have no idea) 3?
DR: 3 or 4?
ME: (clueless) 1?
DR: (sighing) 1 isn’t a choice. Try to pay attention. 3 or 4?
ME: (faking it) 4.
DR: 4 or 5? 5 or 4?
DR: (rapidly) 4 or 5? 5 or 4? 4 or 3? 4 or 1?
ME: Oy… 4? Maybe 1?
DR: (faster than the speed of light) 1 or 2? 4 or 1? 2 or 4? a or b?
POOR ME: WHAT? Letters? I thought you were doing numbers! STOP confusing me!”
It gets worse. Time to test peripheral vision. Something happens to the brain when you cover one eye…
DR: Look “Up”
HAPLESS: (pause) Up. Got that.
HAPLESS: (in slow motion) Hmm. Okay. Down.
HAPLESS: Thank you.
DR: Look “right.”
HAPLESS: (looking left) Oh.
DR: Look “right”
HAPLESS: Oops. Heck, I know that.
HAPLESS: (Long pause, nervous giggle)
DR: (strained) Look “left”
The Doctor mutters something about ulcers and retirement.
What happens? Check future scientific journals. There will be a study done. Your tax dollars at work.
Photo credits: Wikimedia Commons, Barb Best.