Dilated

The people who write the SATs for high school kids have to be careful about words they use in the vocabulary sections because different words have different meanings around the country. To some, a toboggan is a hat, and to some it is a sled. To some, dilated means a portion of an eye exam, and to some it means make way for baby.

Let me be clear. I just came back from the eye doctor. My eyes have been bothering me for about a year now... feeling dirty, harder to get my contacts out, etc. I realized that the last thing I wanted to be doing while trying on dresses in a few weeks was putting more drops in my eyes, so I bit the bullet and called the doctor this morning.

As I suspected, my contacts aren't fitting right. I've had them for at least seven years, probably more, so it's perfectly fine that my eyes have changed shape at least slightly since high school. I mean, my taste in fashion, the books I like, my dress size, and my hair color have all certainly changed since then, so why shouldn't my eyes get a turn?

The doctor asked if I had "time to dilate" my eyes. Um, hello? Why do you think I booked the appointment? But now I see what she means. I got to the car, started driving, and could read everything (signs, gauges, street lights) just fine. Then my phone rang and I looked down at the little screen and had no idea who was calling. It could've been mom or B, but it could've said "We Heart White Foods" and I would've answered. Is this how far-sighted people live?

Basically, I can see anything that's at arm's length or beyond. My screen? Yes. My keyboard? Small aneurysm. My white board to-do list? Yes. My planner? Swirly black and blue squiggles. The intern at work says my eyes look funny... darker somehow. I told her to disregard any squinty, mean looks I shoot her. Simply my poor eyes trying to focus.

So I think it's only for about four hours, but this is going to be a sympathy-inducing four ours (dilate.. induce.. sure, it's my eyes). Already I'm holding copy at arm's length and moving away from my screen. It can't be long before I start adjusting imaginary reading glasses and uttering about how I'd go blind if I tried to read something in such small print. Maybe I should turn on more lights and don a few carelessly knitted sweaters, but I think I'll dream about taking a sick day instead.