I was so embarrassed today. While I was driving to work, I found that my vision had deteriorated rapidly overnight. That can’t be good, have I got a tumour pressing on my optic nerve? Probably. So, I headed for an emergency appointment with my optometrist.
The optometrist squeezed me in between booked patients, and made me stick my head on that little curved shelf and look at her ear. You need really good ears to be an optometrist. I wonder if the attractiveness and hygiene level of your ears form part of the course assessment. After a bit of trying to trick me, can I see this, can I see that, what’s clearer, this or that, I don’t know, do it again, she identified my problem, so I swapped my contact lenses into the correct eyes, paid my bill, and skulked out.
As I arrived at work late, I told Stuart I’d been for a routine check-up at the optometrist’s. To embellish my story, I told him that I once considered taking an optometry course at Uni. He looked at me and said, ‘What, with those ears?’