The Sight of A Building In Its Familiarity

A memory I encountered yesterday when riding past a particular building:

Just’In and I are sitting in the eye doctor’s room. The one with the heavy black machinery that is all-encompassing when you sit in the high chair. I don’t eye the machinery and wonder if it’s plastic like I usually do; I eye my significant other. It’s the first time he’s sat in that chair next to me, lower than me. It’s the chair my mom has often occupied, but I get the feeling he’ll occupy that chair far longer and far more often than my mom has, in time. He looks slightly nervous, though more silently curious. The curiosity overwhelms the nervousness.

The doctor walks in and looks at the nurse’s notes. She tried, earlier, to sketch out my field of vision based on where I saw her pencil. I laugh inwardly because I think she’s dramatized it and simplified it just a little too much. It takes a little more to determine where my eyes see than just a pencil, but then again, we’re only here to verify I’m blind for a government agency. I wish, briefly, that it didn’t involve getting my eyes dilated.

The doctor wheels in front of me. That sound of wheels moving against tile is familiar. He moves the black maybe-plastic in front of me to create a barrier between us. I suppress the mild feeling of claustrophobia, then place my chin where instructed. It feels briefly like the orthodontist’s, and because I was there so often, that also feels familiar.

I brace myself for the light. That light always take a huge amount of self-control not to bolt. But he only looks once. Only one look up and one look down from me, and the light is off.

“Yep, you’ve definitely got RP,” he says as he stands up. He’s trying hard to keep the sadness out of his voice.

I glance at Just’In, to make sure, for some reason, that he’s not emotional taken aback by the sudden reality. He’s fine; in fact, he’s watching me. I can’t tell if the look on his face is admiring, pitying, or just normal. I laugh a little. “My retinas are that bad, huh?”

The doctor shrugs, but I can tell that, too, is calculated. “Yeah. Now, do I need to sign something?”

Yes. The paper is procured, the visit is free, compliments of the government, and the pain is over.

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About The Original Kate

Along with artistic tendencies, Kate enjoys unusual people and is constantly striving for some sort of nonconformity. Kate offers a perspective that is thoughtful but well-written and full of images within the words. Other tidbits that might intrigue: she has very long auburn hair, and, you guessed it, her favorite color is orange.

Posted on March 29, 2008, in From Rabid-Mormon Land Known As Utah. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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