In which I didn’t get dilated, but I did get lectured.

For breakfast I had two soft-boiled eggs and toast with tea. I was going to bathe after, but it was too late by then so I ran upstairs and got dressed. I grabbed my Christmas cards and my knitting, clicked to my dog, and ran out the door with Bindu on my heels.

…aaaaand I left my bento box on the counter. Damn.

I drove my brother’s pickup downtown, and got rockstar parking right in front of the building. I went in, signed the forms I’d already submitted electronically, and paid for my exam in advance.

Then I was called into the back, where I put my chin on tissue paper and pressed my forehead against the bar at about five different machines. Then I was seated in The Chair. The doctor’s assistant came in and asked me a bunch of questions focusing closely on the floaters – I assured her I hadn’t torn a retina and that it was all cool. The doctor came in and blinded me with a light brighter than the sun for awhile, and said things like, “Nice.” and “Good blood vessels!” Then he said, “How long have you had that–” and I interrupted, “It’s a mole. I’ve had it forever.” I need to get the thing removed because it always gets the optometrists excited, like I’ve got eyelash cancer or something. It’s a mole. On my lower eyelid. Do we have to discuss it? It’s gross enough as it is!

Then they walked my light-blind ass down the hall and pointed at a counter; I took my contacts out. The assistant put me on yet another machine (aaaaand I’m still not color blind, k thx bai). Back in the examination room, the doctor looked at my eyes yet again. Then he located my new prescription (“1, or 2? D, or E?”), and afterward I followed the assistant to yet another machine for topography.

My new contacts will be in by the end of the week and they’ll cost $75 each. (I’ll probably wear them for 5 or 6 years before replacing them again, so it’s a screaming deal really.) And when I get them, I will be able to see things! From a distance! On purpose! How hard will THAT rock?!

They didn’t threaten me with dilation, and I didn’t ask for it. Considering how long the good doctor stared at the back of my eyeballs with a laser, I think I’m okay for at least another year.

When the assistant asked me if I wanted new glasses I said yes, so she handed me a paper with the total damage for the gas permeable contact lenses (plus superfun $90 fitting fee) and led me to a room full of frames. She pointed at a few sections and said they were women’s frames, said she’d send someone to me, and flapped off in her nurse’s scrub top.

I started checking out frames. They’re all square these days, and smaller than I ever thought I could wear. The ones I chose are almost exactly what I’d envisioned this morning when I was thinking about frames – they’re basically tortoiseshell, because brown is my favorite color, but they’ve got bright teal too so they’re fun. Here’s the link. They’re “fairly inexpensive,” per the optician. I did not choose either of the $300 frames that I’d thought were cute.

There was another pair of black frames that I might go back for; there’s no reason not to have more than one pair of glasses, and SINCE I STILL DON’T NEED BIFOCALS they can pull the lenses right off the shelf and cut them to fit any frames I want pretty much on the spot.

So, yeah: I might end up with more than one pair of glasses, depending on how much I like these when I get them in a day or two.

The optician who fitted me congratulated me on my first pair of new glasses in twenty years, and then gave me a rather deeply paternal lecture listing the negative long-term effects of improper tear absorption caused by contacts. Okay, okay, okay, lecture noted: no more wearing contacts for more than 12 hours. I promise.

He then turned himself into my personal ‘if the world ends’ go-to guy, because he revealed he’d been collecting antiquated optical equipment and was hand-making glasses in his free time. I’ve always been concerned about the end of the world for one reason and one reason alone: what if the world ends and then I break my only glasses? Well, now I know: I could go find this guy, and he could make me new ones in his garage. Even without power. He assures me that he can do the math.

What a relief! Seriously. What good is someone who consumes resources but can’t even stand watch? I’ve always worried about this vision thing, in terms of its impact on my personal survival of the next dinosaur-killer.