There Is Nothing In The World That Makes Me Feel More Insecure And Unsure Of Myself Than The "1, 2, Or About The Same" Test At The Eye Doctor

Boy did I have myself a morning. I made an 8am eye doctor appointment (so I could get back by 11 and not miss a blog). First of all, bless you DC commuters. Your two options: take the Metro and risk dying, or drive with the sun blinding you while people slam on their brakes for no reason. I was on the road at 7:30 in bumper to bumper traffic and almost died 3 times on my way to Lasik Pro in Chevy Chase. Went in for a consultation for Lasik because 20/200 vision is not something I feel like living with anymore and Uncle Sam graciously gave me back a bunch of money for my tax refund. So I figured “hey, I’m 27 years old. I’m balding, my head won’t stop growing, and my athletic ability is similar to a bag of hershey kisses that sat in the sun for too long, might as well fix my eyes”. I wear glasses all the time now because I’m blind and I fucking hate contacts, hate them. So obviously the only way to remedy my whole life is to have lasers and knives scrape my eyeballs until I can see again.

Now I say all that to say this- the eye doctor this morning was surely something. I haven’t been to an eye doctor in forever so they had to put me through the ringer. They’re measuring my eyes, mapping my eyes (shout out to my super thin corneas, thanks for nothing dickheads), the whole 9 yards. And then the thing that can bring even the strongest of men to his knees- the “1, 2, or about the same?” test. When they show you the same letters twice, and it’s up to your shitty eyes and over-thinking head to decide what you see better. It’s like a chess match. I’m 110% positive the whole test is an inside joke between eye doctors. Like they laugh about their stupid patients later when we go “oh yeah, 2 is muuuuuch better” and they showed you the same thing twice. Or when you tell them “I don’t know, about the same?” in a tone of voice so sad, so weak, that they know they’ve defeated you. Same with when they ask you what line you can read. You just feel so worthless. Apparently the chart today only had letters and I guessed 3 numbers and 2 inanimate objects. Again, 20/200, not for the weak.

And the cool thing about my visit to the eye doctor today is I had my pupils dilated. My eye doctor today was great- he only called me a pussy 3 times for not being able to take eye drops. I don’t know what it is about me, but eye drops and eye-related things are my kryptonite. 2 Girls 1 Cup, fine and dandy. Video of someone putting in eye drops, NOPE, no thanks. Getting all sorts of shit dropped into your eyes is great if you want to make sure your eyes are healthy, bad if you want to drive home. They gave me a pair of plastic sunglasses “just to help for the glare” on my way out. I put them in my pocket and stepped outside and I swear to god I was completely blind. Could not see a fucking thing. Someone could have thrown a wallet at my face and I would have been none the wiser. Never experienced anything like it. I almost feel the eye doctor was looking out the window, laughing his ass off calling me an idiot as he watched me stumble around. So I went across the street to Panera and sat there eating bagels until I could see again so I could drive home without killing anyone. I don’t have glaucoma though, so that’s pretty nifty. Proud of myself.

So the good news is I think I’m going to get this PRK jaunt (it’s a different form of Lasik surgery) so I’m not a blindo anymore. I hate glasses so much, I hate contacts, but I’m completely worthless without them. I take my glasses off when I go out because I hate them, so I go through like 3 pairs a year because I inevitably have too many RBVs and they fall out of my pocket when I’m reaching for my phone and get stepped on at the bar. The bad news is I’m like a 3 year old at the doctor getting a shot when it comes to eye things, and there’s nothing more “eye thing” than lasers and knives slicing and dicing your eyes. Knowing my luck I’ll be in the 1% of people whose eyeballs just fall out. Great for content, bad for ya boy.

PS: Somewhere between the pupil dilation and the blind stumbling to Panera the doc described the PRK in detail to the point I broke out in a anxiety sweat and he had to stop and get me water. That’s where I’m at. And the best news of all- Doc said I can Periscope the procedure, so if you’re from Philly and I offended you in the last couple of weeks you can have a front row seat to my suffering. Silver linings for everyone!