Maybe being trapped at a Michael Bolton concert? I dunno.
For me, this is always the WORST DAY OF THE YEAR.
Annual Eye Exam Day.
I remember back to the first time I had this done and how the Ophthalmologist put 8 drops in each eye to get my eyes to dilate. No other doctor has ever had to use that many so I am convinced that my first Ophthalmologist must not have liked me.
I feel a rant coming on…
Seriously folks, how can it help the doctor to see if Diabetes has affected my eyes when the eye drops are made of molasses? At least that is what it feels like. Or, I would describe it as drops that make your eyes 10 times their normal size and your poor little lids try their darndest to get over them. Like I need any more stretch marks. Loverly.
I hate having to sit in the waiting room watching the world blur up even worse then it already does without my glasses. Picking up magazines trying to identify what or who is on the cover of Time from 1988 since the newer issues have not made it out from the break room to the common folk.
I hate this day so much.
Deep down I know that this is for the best. I know that without this procedure there is a possibility that the “D” will wreak havoc on my eyes without me noticing it physically until it is too late.
Hell, maybe it has.
Maybe that is what I hate the most. The idea that this afternoon I may find out that becoming a B.A.D. a year ago was just too little too late. The thought of it sickens me. I am terrified of going blind, losing my toes, needing to be on dialysis. All of that stuff that is possibly in my future. At least that is what every brochure I have ever seen always said.
Tomorrow is always the best day of the year for me.
Here’s to tomorrow.