A SPOOKTACULAR ADVENTURE

This morning I had my yearly comprehensive eye examination.  Halloween had taken over the large reception room that shares space with the optical shop.

Uncomfortably bright

Ghosts, skeletons, pumpkins, and fall abounded.  Ghoulish pumpkins of all colors stared at me from the counter.  A gold skeleton danced on a door.  The exit door had a Christmas wreath.
I settled into a seat to wait.  Above me was an eye chart poster draped with cotton cob web.  My husband made himself comfortable for the hour and a half wait and took a nap.

And of course, just as I decided to pull out a book to read, and jot a few notes in my journal (yes, I brought it along this time.), I was called into the small “waiting room”.

The assistant quickly left, leaving the door ajar which five minutes later from a gust of air mysteriously closed.
So I was left in this dimly lit room with the big letter “E” staring at me from the opposite side of the room.  I am no stranger to such rooms as I have been visiting such places since I was two or three.
The equipment remained silent and black, casting ominous eerie shadows on the wall.
So it is was just me, my notebook, a pen, a book, and my thoughts.
The sounds from the hall drifted in, mostly conversations in Spanish.  I felt the vibrations and muffled sounds of footsteps on the hall carpeted floors as I waited.

Vision tests these days have come a long ways.  I am very grateful for all the care I have gotten through out the years.
The assistant finally came into the room and gave me the standard visual acuity test exam.  You know, the reading of levels of different size letters and a number just to throw you off.
I also got an introocular pressure measurement.
  I was then sent back to the main waiting room for a few minutes.  Then, I was called in again, well not to a little room but to a machine in the hall way to have a keratometry test that measures the shape and curve of the outside of the eye to test for astigmatism. 

restroom key

They took my glasses away and sent me back to the main waiting room to await the next step without them!  I felt naked but fish into my hand bag for my prescription sun glasses.
After some time, I was again led into another small room where I was given the dreaded, deadly, dilation drops and again led back through a maze of hall ways just to get to the main waiting room to wait for the effect to take in preparation for the ophthalmologist doctor.
Finally, I was left again in a small similar dimly lit room to wait for the doctor.  I begin to feel like I was in a haunted mansion of some sort, waiting for the dr. to say BOO.
The Dr., in his ghostly white coat and his assistant dressed in all black, knocked on the door, like I was going to answer it, right?  You're waiting and the sound of the knock never fails to startle.

The questions he was asking me did not add up and I had a puzzled look.  He gave a questioning look to his assistant, they both did an about turn and quickly exited the room and shut the door.
Again I was left with my thoughts, I couldn’t read, I couldn’t see, but I could pray.
After about another 15 minutes, they reappeared with an apology about being in the wrong room.  To make sure this time, the assistant asked my birth date.
So the doctor did his look see and I am happy to report that my vision has not changed and I’m good for another year.

My outside world today seemed overly and uncomfortably bright due to the drops of dye to highlight the areas they wanted to look at.
  Six hours later, my vision was back to normal and I’m

blogging about today’s adventure.