Whether or not my skills of observation are sometimes suspect is not mine to decide. Let’s just say that some bias must have played in, based upon my own job experience prior to 2012. Dude was being his own boss and appeared to have it all!
Isn’t it funny how outsiders observe business owners? They rarely know the fast-paddling duck feet just below the surface, only seeing the smooth and composed part above the water. As a result of that first semi-successful encounter where I transitioned from many years of contact lens wearing to multi-focal lenses, I made a snap judgment that would not be in my own best interest.
Time went by. My eyes changed a lot, and my jobs changed a lot. I had trusted this excruciatingly pale human with all my eye care, with just a few selective exceptions, and those did not go particularly well or inexpensively for me.
Doctor Big Red remained loyal for my eye care needs, and he was oh, so close (at least on certain days of the week at certain times). Convenience is sometimes my worst enemy, as I belatedly observe. For nearly ten long years, he diagnosed and corrected whatever went wrong, accepting my varying health insurance or lack thereof.
I was never surprised by the diagnosis of glaucoma, since, after all, what sort of foolish whitie lives in Florida’s relentless sunshine for nearly 3 years? I agreed silently to the 6-month diagnostic checkups. My own super-pale father was very hindered by his own glasses and near blindness for most of his admittedly short life. What did I expect?
That’s how I wound up having three nearly identical pair of glasses from the same store chain: one small gold one from Central Florida for distance only, the metallic purple pair for my multi-focal everyday wear, and a larger copper one for mid-range. Life was good and comfortable, as sometimes occurs.
Until – and there’s always an “until” in stories of this type. Until our son and his lady love got married in a faraway land in the middle of a pandemic. Until my husband and I were expected to fly to the Great Northwest to be with the family and friends. Until everything changed for this couple.
Dropping off our two beloved dogs at our favorite boarding facility, I was rushing around with a mask on (two things I should never do together at my age and grace) when I stumbled and fell on the boarder’s concrete walk. I did a very inelegant three-point landing as well: left knee, right hand, forehead. BOOM!
The journey itself became a nightmare, which was no fault of our son and his new family at all. The good news was that I had remembered to bring my smaller glasses, potentially to drive at night if required. The bad news was that hubby, in whose name the rental was made, had scanned his driver’s license at home to email our son for purposes of advance rental, and there upon scanner the DL remained.
OK, that in itself could be a whole article, and I won’t go there at this moment. Suffice to say that limping around with baggage and one good eye wasn’t my favorite thing, and these were also not my husband’s finest moments.
We got through the five-day whirlwind of events with minimal actual damage to us or our luggage, for a change, especially since given my condition, we opted to check through one or two of those bags. From what we could tell during and afterwards, a really nice time was had by all attendees at each event.
A month or so after the wedding, I went back to favorite Eye Doc to get the right lens replaced in favorite purple pair of glasses. Hm. Not like I remembered him. Not at all like I had remembered.
We were both masked, and he also wore a special plastic shield over his face. This is not a great thing for a soft-spoken mumble-mouth of any age, and when the client is sans glasses, she would not have been able to read his lips anyway. I learned way too much about Dr Big Red that day, that much I know.
Politics! Oh, my actual God in Heaven. He and I were worlds apart, and he was pissed. I no longer pitied him, but was glad not to be spat upon. He gave me the cursory, and I do mean quickie, eye exam. I was like, get me TF outta this chair stat! I apparently needed new lenses in both eyes (no surprise to me).
The other thing I learned that I could actually hear is that I most assuredly have cataracts, and not just ones that doctors “watch for progress” in a patient. Surgery would make my colors brighter and at least one aspect of my vision crisper and clearer. Holy Guacamole, Chatman!
Last, but certainly not least, the well-meaning optical assistant stopped in to inform the “good doctor” that my health insurance would not be honored at all for this visit. Wait, what? Screeching sound in my brain. But then again – oh, snap – I had changed flavors of ACA on January First, so that was likely. Ugh.
There were a few more indications that I was not getting thorough eye care, including the fact that I had to return no less than three times to the store to order my pair of lenses for my beloved purple frames. Once, the machine that measures lenses for fitting frames was malfunctioning. More than once, a supervisor from another part of the store needed to be summoned to accept my payment.
Finally, the lenses were complete, and I went to get them. Total disappointment ensued. Although I don’t know how to determine prescription correctness, I was certain that the right eye was all wrong. I returned the lenses for a full refund, and verbally advised at least one optical assistant that their boss was a crook.
About a month thereafter, I received the insurance statement of benefits online as filed by the optical office at this store. Was my insurance honored there? Hell, yes. Was I going to go back and demand another refund from that redhead for all but the non-covered piece of the exam? Hell, no.
It was a nominal fee for another life lesson in human nature, that’s for certain. Doctor Big Red and his minions probably won’t notice my departure, and I’m 100% fine with that.
