It took place this morning at 11 o'clock, at the optometrists office adjoining the Bay Optical on the concourse level of the Bloor TTC. It was as uncomfortable as it usually is--the demands to restrain the blink reflex when the eye is touched, the fluid and the ultraviolet-blue light to check for glaucoma--and not helped by the optometrist's rudeness. When I was paying, freed from the office he came out and said that I was one of his most polite customers in days. I suspect that he had ulterior motives. The purchase of the replacement glasses--frames and lenses--would have been excessively expensive had I got them at Bay Optical. I crossed the street instead and got a two-for-one deal. A clerk had made a mistake and sold me the second pair without noticing that the lenses I'd need weren't ones that they had in stock, but they decided to honour the sale.
I dread these exams. My eyes have been steadily deteriorating since the age of five. Without my glasses, I wouldn't be able to clearly see the nose on my face. I worry that one day, even with glasses I won't be able to. I fear the idea of life in a perpetually blurred and low-resolution universe.