One summer afternoon I stood at home plate taking cuts with my aluminum Easton while my father tossed batting practice. He’d mix in a few curve balls among the fast balls. After I swung well ahead of one curve ball he told me to “pickup the rotation of the ball”.
It wasn’t long before I was back at the plate swinging away while sporting new contact lenses. I finally understood what my father meant when he told me to pickup the rotation. I could actually see the stitching on the ball as it came towards me. Over time, I learned to patiently wait on the curve and drive it into right field.
It’s been a long time since someone has tossed a curveball my way, but I still make an annual trip to the eye doctor to be fitted for new lenses and glasses. This week I visited a new doctor who gave me the standard exam which included holding a black soup spoon over my left eye, having my eyelids flipped over over head, and putting my chin in a torture contraption only to have an unexpected burst of air blasted into my eye.
I don’t have a problem with any of that. But I do have a problem with something, and it’s not limited to just this eye doctor. Every eye doctor I’ve been to has the FREAKISHLY HUGE EYEBALL poster hanging on the wall. What is the point of this?
That big eye gives me the creeps.
The last thing I need while trying my best to read a line of microscopic letters is the evil glare of Mike Wazowski.
When I visit the dentist, I don’t have to look at a gigantic teeth and gums. I won’t take this any further, but you can imagine the uneasiness if all doctors decided to hang their body part specialty off the wall in poster size form.
I don’t need to see a close up of my cornea or my iris or, heaven forbid, all those blood vessels partying it up in the back of my eye.
It would make a good cheat sheet in case the doctor forgets where the sclera is located.
Or maybe there’s a obscure law that requires it to be hung on the wall in full patient view in the same manner businesses must hang the Minimum Wage laws in a conspicuous location.
Either way, I wish it would stop staring at me.
-Link to Doctor My Eyes from Jackson Browne