There Must Be Some Mistake

Sometimes life makes you smile. This morning I sat in the specialist’s office waiting for my annual eye exam. This particular doctor is either very competent or extremely overbooked. Most times the waiting room of patients extends outside the office door and winds through the hallway of the building. Today was a good day; I saw twenty patients ahead of me.

After the “screens” and drops that should really come with a warning label, I rubbed my bleary eyes enough to see the patients seated next to me. An elderly gentleman by the name of Mr. Hobbs struck up a conversation that revolved around Stephen Hawkings and the revolutionary effects of electricity. A Mr. Robataille chimed in and wondered why women keep so many items stuffed inside a purse? He had noticed my fingers rooting for a Kleenex tissue hidden deep within the folds of my tote. My attempt to explain the psychology of the purse as a symbol for a life, failed to convince him.

I had my own questions. As I sat blindly attempting to make out the faces of the other patients, I noticed a similar attribute of each and every one. Not one of the patients in the waiting room wore glasses. Some were actually reading newsprint. I was the youngest patient in the room and the only one wearing glasses.

After what felt like a small eternity,I heard my name called. I sat in the chair to await the arrival of the Eye God. As I waited, I attempted to study the eye chart posters pinned around the closeted walls. Front and centre was the big question: why am I the only one wearing glasses in this man’s office?

The God entered the examining room and smiled.He studied my chart notes, “Very good. Very good,” he chortled. He had me place my chin onto a bar and swung a metal contraption across my face.
“Look into my eye,” he said. The fingers of his right hand held a small disc that looked like a magnifying glass and suddenly lights shone, and screens slid.
“All good. You’re healthy. Perfect vision.”
Had there been an error?
“Perfect vision? I’m the only patient in your waiting room wearing glasses.”
The doctor’s face smiled and he broke into laughter.
“Very good. Very good,” he giggled. “Later. Later. When you’re older, I fix you like the others. Too young, too young.”
Sometimes life is puzzling.