So I’ve had glasses since sophomore year of high school. Likely have them until, well, forever. I didn’t really want them but once I had them on and realized how much more and better I could see, I was fine with them. Although they wouldn’t let me get contacts for a year. So for basketball I had to wear the rec-specs. Not as cool as you’d expect. There was no customization back in ’85. You got what they made. So I couldn’t get navy and gold ones to match our uniforms, or the team logo, or lightning bolts or anything cool.
Turns out Rye, despite protests to the contrary, has actually inherited some of my genes. Which, as I continue to tell her, are mostly cool. Yes, she got some of Mom’s too in all fairness. After all she’s good at math and has good hair. No way that’s coming from me. But Mom had glasses too. Till she had that laser beam eye melting surgery. Anyway, my prescription had lapsed so I needed to have an eye appointment in order to get my new set of contacts. Figured I use the two birds one stone strategy and bring Rye along for her first eye appointment. Didn’t plan ahead though and I had to follow the second half of the ISU-KSU game on my phone. Big win by the way.
If you’ve been to the eye doctor then you’ve had the glaucoma test. You press your forehead against a weird looking ocular device while placing your chin on small support. Then you open your eyes as wide as you can while looking into the device and…they shoot a short puff of air into your eye ball. Then they do it again with your other eye. Rye was, to put it mildly, a bit disconcerted when I explained the test to her. Had to talk her off the ledge a bit. I mean my eyes are watering now just typing this. It’s not natural. You don’t shoot anything into your eyeball, you don’t jump out of a perfectly good aircraft and you don’t argue that grunge is better than hair metal.
But she survived. However, while I’m sitting in the chair with all the cool vision testing contraptions, the doc says, “okay, got to give you the bifocal test now.”
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Let’s just hold on a minute there chief.
“I’m 42. Not 82.”
“Well, once you hit 40 we like to give you this test. It’s important to know exactly what your eyes are doing.”
“Um, yeah, here’s the deal. I don’t care about the result of this test. But the answer is that I’m not getting bifocals.”
Turns out I didn’t need them anyway. My prescription hasn’t really changed in the last 3 years. Other things that haven’t changed? Jim Delaney’s need to destroy college football, the media’s torrid love affair with the President, and preeminence of Miller Lite as the king of light beers.
So now Rye has glasses. And contacts. And we have another expense. Awesome.