So it's pretty needless to say that a
lot has been going on in my life at a very rapid pace lately. I've
accepted a couple of different opportunities with regard to my career
and writing pursuits (they aren't mutually exclusive). For the
position I accepted helping launch a new program, I had to go do the
usual physical, TB test, fingerprinting, yadda yadda yadda. So I
hop on the bike and get my day rollin'. I get the finger-printing
done in almost record time, which opens up my day for a loooooong
waiting period at the occupational clinic. I sign in, shuffle my
helmet and jacket around and get situated, expecting to be sitting
there for a while. Anyone who has been through the process knows it
can be a bit... boring.
Within a minute I was called back. Yessssss.... green light! I muttered to myself as I gathered my things. I
was pretty happy about this smooth pace that I had been having during
my day and I cooperatively made my way to the back, cheerfully
greeting the aide as I walked through the doorway.
Now... years ago (which is about how
long it's been since I've had to do a work related physical) this was
cake. But I have since come to realize that few things will burst
your bubble of eternal youth quite like the vision test. I've always
been extremely proud of my visual capabilities. I've held pretty
consistent at 20/20 for the last few years and I fully expected the
same results today. You might say I was almost cocky about it. She
told me to pick the line that I could read the easiest without
straining my eyes and rattle off the numbers. Then she instructed me
to do the same whilst covering my right eye. I found both of these
tasks to be pretty easy. I eagerly scrolled my way all the way to
the bottom and selected the line that was second from the base.
“Okay, now cover your left eye and do the same.” It was then that
I scrolled down the same page and found that my beloved line had
abandoned me in a blur of incomprehensible characters. This
cannot be?! I gasped internally
and hesitated before beginning. “I think I smeared something in my
eye,” I pointed out whilst rubbing my eye.
 |
| It won't be long before they're takin' my keys |
I
looked back at the picture and there was only minimal improvement;
“Okay... M... F... T... S...” I started reading aloud awkwardly, picking up confidence as I went along, “...what is that, a K?” I
asked nonchalantly with a nervous laugh. I paused to glance over at
her with my left eye still covered. I could only imagine what I must
have looked like holding my hand up there and looking at her for confirmation with one
terrified eye while the rest of my face tried to play it off. My
blind eye flawlessly read the expression on her face as I hurriedly
returned to the picture and again squinted, reading off the last few
letters with the desperation of someone who just wanted it to be
over. She acknowledged my results by writing them silently on a
paper.
Sure. I could have probably picked a more legible line, but this was serious. I
refused to accept it. I refused to accept this imperfection in
symmetry. I tried to brush it off as we made our way to the scale
but it was lingering in the back of mind. I tried to peek over her
shoulder casually to see what she had written but her long,
pretty brown hair was in my way every time. Damnit.
“Okay
go ahead and step on the scale and we'll get your weight.” Oh
this should be equally enlightening. I
thought to myself defeatedly. I haven't weighed myself in months. I
never really care to but several months ago when I was still with the
ex I had measured myself in at 130. I stood there as she slid the
measuring mechanism (whatever they are called) from side to side
ranging from 140 and then back to 110 until it balanced itself. I
felt myself pinch my eyes closed in an apprehensive cringe as she
slid it closer to 140. The suspense was killing me but in a humorous
way. I felt myself let out an exasperated chuckle, ooooh
god just let it land already!
“Alright, 126,” she said as she scribbled the notes on her form.
I opened my eyes in disbelief. “Huh? Really? 126?” She looked
at me, “Hell yeah! I need to be single forever!” I scoffed out
loud. I jokingly thought to myself Maybe I should adjust my
suspension to account for this?
 |
| Old isn't always a bad thing... |
She walked me to an
exam room where I waited in silence, plopping myself up onto the
padded table where the tissue paper crinkled under my but. Posters
were hanging on the wall with diagrams of human anatomy. Immediately
I placed my hand back over my left eye in my own internal challenge.
“Alright damnit...” as I scrolled around to find the smallest
font possible and strained my eyes to the point where a Jedi master
would have generated enough power to level the dwellings of every
planet in the universe. My concentration was shattered by a knock at
the door. It was the doctor.
“Hi there!” She
began going through my paperwork and reading back questions. “Any
medical history?” “Yeah,” I began, “a motorcycle accident in
2006 where I sustained a broken scapula, some cracked ribs and a
lacerated spleen during which time I also took a blood infusion.”
She looked up from her paperwork and her mouth was agape. I was still
inconspicuously squinting at the poster with my left eye pinched when
I caught her gaze and relaxed my stare. “I wasn't expecting that!”
She said in awe. I responded which a chuckle, “Yeah, neither was
I!” I said. She continued her exam, poking and prodding and
looking in my ears and tapping on my knee caps, all the while we are
chatting and laughing and in the back of my mind I am wondering where
my impeccable visual abilities have gone. I felt a mild emptiness as
I considered the harsh reality that... I am getting old, and so are
my faculties. Like my old tired bike, my body is telling me that
it's time to start stretching more, exercising more, eating better,
and looking out for myself. And then there's my reasoning telling
me, “Shit, it's a miracle we've made it this far and still have
faculties to begin with.”
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| When you do it with style... |
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