Help! I've been dilated!

01 Jun 1992

I went to the eye doctor’s today. I had been putting off getting contacts for too long; it got to the point that when cute boys were pointed out to me in nightclubs, I coulnd’t see them. Bad. Very bad.

So it was all very routine — I did all the little nintendo games they have to offer, and withstood getting air squirted in my eye (I hate that). Then came the dilation.

I had never been privy to this little bit of optical torture, having always gone to McGlasses in the mall (read: poor student, no time). But I had heard about people getting other people to drive them home after this, so I asked, “will I be able to see enough to drive home?”

“Sure,” said the doctor. “It only affects your near vision.”

Oh, cool. So I got eyedrops and got to wait out in another room, where a three year old quizzed me about my name, my sister’s name, my mother’s name, and why I had an earring in my nose (at which time the three year old’s mother took him away. Darn.)

When the doctor called me back in he was very pleased about how dilated my eyes were. “You must be especially sensitive to the drops,” he explained to me. Oh joy. Then I got examined, which was easy, except for the little green shadows that continued to flit by ten minutes after it was done. I coulnd’t get contacts right that moment, cause I have an odd astigmatism, and they have to order lenses for me (argh.)

So I paid my bill, and walked merrily out the door, only to be struck down by what seemed to be the wrath of god but what turned out to be just a whole lot of sunlight.

“Expletive,” said I, covering my eyes and ducking back into the office. I stood for a while, trying to get used to the light, and then made a run for my car. Things weren’t so bad in my car, so I wandered out into the parking lot and into the street.

It is amazing that I even made it down the block without hitting anything, considering I had my eyes shut and my hands over them most of the way. I managed to duck into a local McDonalds and figured I’d have lunch and see if the dliation would wear off a ltitle bit so I could go back to work.

Six mcnuggets and a large fry later, and nothing was better. Standing morosely outside with my eyes squinted shut I noted a walgreens a block away and decided to go and buy some cheap dark sunglasses which would at least allow me to drive home.

It took me a half an hour to get to walgreens. I felt like some sort of medieval leper, my hands over my face, huddling along the sidewalk. Two young women with baby carriages crossed to the other side of the street as I walked by. I nearly got run over in the parking lot because I coulnd’t see the car coming up on the side.

So I got myself to walgreens, and in my dazed and pained condition took the darkest pair of sunglasses I could find. Some moments later I came to my senses and put back the huge gaudy purple pair I had picked out and decided that if I was going to get cheap sunglasses, I might as well make a vague attempt to get cool ones.

The woman at the counter obviously thought I was some-drug crazed lunatic, cause she frowned at me and refused to be friendly. I mused for a moment, trying to remember which drug it was that dilates your eyes so that I could at least act properly 🙂

But in short, I got back ok, and now I’m still wandering about with sunglasses on, which make all my co-workers think I’m being pretentious. sigh.

Posted on 01 Jun 1992 • in essays • by laura