Cheating on the Eye Exam

I know I'm supposed to go to the eye doctor once a year, but the truth is that I avoid it until I have no more contacts and they force me to come back to get more. Then I have to go through the same eye exam that I have endured for many years now. My optometrist has been my optometrist (with the exception of the few years post high school when I had no insurance) since I was a child. What strikes me about optometrists is that they must have that very unique personality trait that necessitates a daily routine - to the max. They don't mind having a job that is essentially the same, day in, day out, month after month, year after year, every working day of their lives. Just writing it makes me bored. I am not, as you can tell, wired to be one of these types of people. I'm lucky if I make the same recipe twice - ever in my life. My family routinely asks me to make something I made a few months back, because it was a favorite, and I'm lucky if I can remember what it even was or where the recipe originated. I like surprises. They make me feel alive. This makes motherhood my ideal career, I guess. No two days alike...

I think my eye doctor is great. He fascinates me. First of all, I have infinite respect for anyone who can handle looking at the human eye - which gives me the creeps. I like to watch him work. While other doctors have long since computerized their records, my guy keeps meticulous, detailed, hand-written notes on my every visit. I have no doubt that he has record of my very first visit somewhere in that dogeared, inch-thick, manilla file folder. He talks to me using numbers and codes that I cannot possibly understand. He tells me all the dots and decimal points of my eye measurements. Cool - 47.53 this time. That's a relief. Oh, wait. Is that bad? He insists on taking my contacts out and putting them back in by himself. This drives me bonkers, but I endure it like a kid endures a spit bath from mom. He always gives me two tissues - one for each eye. His procedure is flawless and completely predictable. We'll probably both have alzheimer's someday, but people will actually notice his. We have grown older together. When I was a child, he seemed so young. I babysat his children when I was in high school. He is my parents's age, and, because I only see him once every year or two, he seems to age faster than they do. His hair has grayed. His hairline and pants have gotten higher while his eyebrows have gotten lower. He's becoming "cute"... like I think most older men do.

Several years back, I realized that I had inadvertently memorized the eye chart at the doctor's office. The 40/20 line for nearsightedness is O F L C T, 30/20 is A P E O T F, and 20/20 is T Z V E C L. The 20/20 line for farsightedness is H T V P F R U (which is the only line he ever asks me, since I have 20/20 reading vision). I have a somewhat photographic memory. Written text is specifically committed easily to my memory. I don't know how, only seeing it every year or two, it committed itself to my memory, but it did. I debated on whether or not this knowledge was harming my ability to honestly have my vision tested. I mean, I never intentionally cheated on the exam, but once I started to read the first letter, the others would just fall out of my mouth - like the Pledge of Allegiance or my Social Security number would. In fact, I found myself almost trying to see a different letter on the chart so that I could make myself question it. It never worked.

Finally, two years ago, I decided to tell him that I had the eye chart memorized. He didn't believe me. He's not a laugher, but he did manage a smirk and a "oh..." He said something to the effect of that he doubted I really did or that it would effect my results at all, and went about giving the eye test again. Lately though, I've noticed that my vision isn't as clear as I'd like it to be. I decided to bring it up again this morning at my appointment. This time, I said it to the receptionist first. I just blurted it out during the part when I'm supposed to be sitting quietly, reading a magazine. "I memorized the eye chart." She said, "Excuse me?" I said, "I have the eye chart memorized." She laughed, as though she thought I was just being silly (which is not out of the question). I said, "O-F-L-C-T. H-T-V-P-F-R-U." She and the other receptionist both stopped dead in their tracks. I said jokingly, "I can read it from here." Then I smiled and laughed and they both started laughing raucously and trading jokes about what he was going to do with me now. Oddly though, laughing with these ladies about this ridiculous situation gave me the courage I needed to tell the doctor again, with more confidence, that I had memorized his chart.

This story has a good ending. When I explained the situation, he said, "Wow. You're in luck. We just changed out the machines last week, and the new machine has a whole new chart." Whew! That was relief. Finally, I felt like I got a good exam. Turns out, I might be being overcorrected, since my eyesight is actually improving with age, which he says tends to happen to people who were nearsighted since childhood.

This situation, like so many others, causes me to think. Could I have successfully made myself see D-P-L-O-T instead of O-F-L-C-T in order to get better "perspective"? Could I have suppressed what I knew was absolutely true in order to try to get a true evaluation of my eyesight? In broader realms, "Can a person suppress what he or she knows to be true in order to try to gain a more truthful goal?" The idea of it seems ridiculous to me. Yet it happens quite often these days. Truth is viewed to be subjective. "You see it this way, but I see it this way," thinking... What happens, is that a person attempts to ditch what they've always believed in order to try to find a better "truth". From my experience, if you ever knew what the truth about something was, looking harder won't lead you to a better or truer truth. You might find additional, related truths, but you won't find a different one. Because that is the nature of the word, the concept - truth. It's nature is constant, unchanging, and final. If you have children, you might have noticed that they are sure and dogmatic and more honest (sometimes to your chagrin) than any adult. That's because they don't let anyone prevailing opinion or peer pressure lead them to look for something else.

I took Levi to his neurologist yesterday. The doctor asked him some questions I was sure he wouldn't be able to answer - at his age and maturity level, but I was wrong. He was quite capable of giving answers far above what I thought he would be able.

The doctor asked, "Levi, what do you think of your medicine?"

Levi responded, "Um, I think that it's pretty yucky."

He elaborated, "When I have a headache, I hold between my eyes and I cry and say, 'Daddy, I need some medicine,' and daddy goes to get some medicine, and then I take it, and I feel better. For awhile, it was very yucky, but mom got some flavor in it, and now it's not as yucky anymore, but it's still yucky."

Doctor looked at me and said, "Is he in school?"

I said, "Not yet."

He said, "He's ready."

Levi didn't say what he thought the doctor wanted to hear. He hasn't been conditioned to curb his honesty yet. He isn't yet at my girls's age where they are quiet about what they think around other adults - for fear of rejection or having the "wrong" answer. He told the truth, from his perspective. It was a subjective truth, an opinion, but he gave it unabashed, without fear of rejection.

If you are blessed enough to ever have the truth about something, don't look for a different one - because it'll just be a lie. Live by it. Let it change your life... or just use it to cheat on the eye exam.