Thursday, August 13, 2009

My eyes used to be my best feature...

The optometrist used to be my favorite doctor’s office to visit. No nakedness, no scale, no uncomfortable small talk as the doc pokes and probes where no one wants to be poked or probed. No, at the eye doctor’s office you sit in a comfy chair, read some itty bitty letters, pick out fun frames and out you go. Yes, there’s the eye dilation that leaves you unable to read for a while but you get those spacey sunglasses to wear and then get to be a hero to your kids when you graciously hand them over.

Yes, the eye doctor used to be my favorite doctor. No more. The last two times I visited I was informed my eyes are fat and old.

A while ago I noticed a yellowish puffiness on the inside corner of my eyeball. I’ll suffer a stomach ailment for six months and not go to my M.D. but I don’t mess around with my eyeball. I rushed right in to my optometrist only to be told I have a pinguecula, a benign growth usually caused by exposure to sunlight. (Yes, folks, I developed this after moving to the sunshine state of Michigan.) My doctor described it this way: “It’s a fatty deposit that won’t affect your vision. I can give you steroid drops if it becomes inflamed but it won't ever go away. You'll have it for the rest of your life.”

Great. Another fatty deposit I can do nothing about.

Just last week I went in for my regular eye exam. I’d been having a little trouble with my contacts; they were continually getting cloudy. I chalked the problem up to the lenses being old. I figured if I got new contacts the problem would go away. So Monday I got the new lenses, popped them in and the cloudy film was there again in five minutes.

Back to the optometrist. He looked in my eyes and said, “Your tear duct lining isn’t producing enough moisture to properly lubricate the lens. That happens when you get old.”

You know, Doc, you just took away the one trip to the doctor’s office I liked. I am no longer a fan.

I drove my fat, old eyes right home and slipped on my favorite black pumps. I may have old eyes, but I can still have young feet. Until my arches fall, I suppose.