Vision Exam or Legalized Racket?

Either way, my pupils never stood a chance.

I went to the eye doctor to continue participating in that insurance scam. I haven’t had a change in prescription in 17 years, but sure—nothing like ruining a perfectly good Tuesday.

And every year they insist on doing a contact lens fitting, like my eyeballs reshaped.

Doctor: “Well… your eye grew.”
Me: “Really, Doc?”
Doctor: “No, it’s exactly the same. That’ll be $50 plus insurance.”
Me: “Great.”

This time I get a new doctor, and they go, “Your prescription is too strong.” You know what that is, right? Just one professional trashing the last guy’s work.

It’s like when a contractor comes to your house and says, “Well, I wouldn’t have plumbed it that way. I don’t know who did this.”

Too strong a prescription.
What am I seeing too well, Doc?

Then you go through the exam. There’s no way they’re taking any of this seriously.

Doctor: “#1 or #2? #1 or #2? Real quick. #2 or #3?”
Me: “Can I see #3 again? I think I blinked.”
Doctor: “No! #4 or #5! Answer now! This could be the difference between you dropping your kids off safely or driving straight into a wall!”
Me: “Do you account for the machine being dirty? The right lens looks yellow.”

Then they dilate my pupils “for my health,” which is fun, because two minutes later they send me outside like a naked mole rat emerging from its hole.

Eyes the size of bocce balls.
I can’t see my own shoes.
And the doctor’s basically going, “Ehh, he’ll be fine. He’s only going home.”

I’m not saying they shouldn’t let you drive, but I do wonder how many DUIs get handed out for Tropicamide.

Or technically: driving under the influence of routine eye care.

See you soon. In the meantime, protect your pupils and your Tuesdays.

— Ricky C.