My eyesight turned bad when I was about nine years old. I’ve worn glasses ever since, and go for regular checkups.
Luckily, the Rhode Island Eye Institute is a block and a half away from our apartment. The day before my last appointment, I received a telephone reminder from a robotic assistant, who told me blurrily that I had an appointment on Wednesday with a Doctor – Newberg? Newsome? Nugent?
I couldn’t remember. I’ve had at least three different doctors since going there; the first one retired, the second one moved away. When I checked in, I tried “Nugent,” as that seemed the trendiest, what with Ted Nugent in the news and all. The receptionist looked up at me wearily. “Newman?” she said.
“Sure,” I said. “Why not?”
First came the assistant. Eye drops. “Is this better – or this? Number one – or number two?” I’ve been doing this since I was nine years old. I know the drill. I hate the drops, but I can deal with the glaucoma test and the blazing lights they shine into my eyeballs. I’m tougher than I look.
Then, after an interminable wait (to allow the drops to take effect), in walks Doctor Newton: younger than me, blondish, goofy-looking, very sure of himself. He looks into my eyeballs. Optic nerve blah blah blah. Cornea blah blah blah. There’s some pitting of the retina that might (if I live long enough) be serious, but not to worry: surgery can fix it.
Lovely.
I decide to ask a question. “I’ve been wearing bifocals for a while,” I said. “Do I really need them?”
He starts to giggle. “You probably don’t realize that you’re using both lenses,” he said. “That’s a good thing.”
At first I’m relieved. Then I notice that he’s still laughing at my silly question, and glancing back at his assistant to make sure she notices what a silly thing I’ve said.
And I suddenly realize that my ophthalmologist is a jerk.
I have pretty much decided I will never visit Doctor Nerdburger again. There are lots of ophthalmologists in the world.
I wonder if Ted Nugent is available?
