So there's nothing wrong with my eyes. Well, except the usual myopia and red-green colourblindness that is. I went for my eye test yesterday.
"Just take a seat at the machine," said the optometrist, turning to the wall to flick off the light switch.
"Er, you might find it easier on the other side," she chuckled. I had accidentally sat on her side of the desk and was just wondering why I needed a keyboard and monitor screen. It does always help to be the right side of the lenses, I suppose. It wasn't the best start for an eye exam.
She took some measurements and puffed the usual glaucoma-spray into each eye. I looked at red dots and white circles and then she switched on the lights and left the room.
There's something awkwardly intimate about having your eyes tested. I don't remember too many occasions when a stranger has been millimetres away from my face, looking directly into my eyes. Before long, the second optomotrest was in the room, carrying the same set of notes that the young lady had carried out. His face was implacable and his demeanour cheerful. I have never known whether that's a good sign or a really bad one, when it's worn by a medical professional.
The eye test continued. He shone lights right into my eyes until I could see the ghosting of the inside of my eyeball and a blinking image of the sun. He made me look up to the ceiling, down to the floor, left to the machine and right to the monitor. I thought about his tie, the carpet, his hair and the planet-like picture on the monitor-screen. My thoughts wandered too. I had to remind myself that my eyes were being examined.
The 'planet-like picture' looked a bit like Mars - a sphere full of blood-red cracks and craters. It turned out to be a photograph of one of my eyes, which (apart from the short-sightedness) the optometrist cheerily told me were perfectly healthy.
So, I've been referred to the hospital. They're going to let me know what happens next.
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