Second Helpings

Optical Confusions

I dragged myself from my bed earlier than usual this morning, knowing I’d need to compose myself for the ordeal ahead. At least the sun was shining, but by the time we were due to collect mummy dearest, things had decidedly changed. Two days into spring and our first snowfall of the year. Oh joy.

Arriving at La La Land I was quite surprised to find mother dressed, even if her blouse was inside out, only one shoe had a shoelace and teeth have gone awol again. After sorting her out and fetching coat, hat, gloves and scarf, she decided she needed the loo, so progress was halted.

We shuffled to the car and set off on the five minute drive to the opticians. A very pleasant Indian gentleman helped her into the chair and asked if she could sign the form he handed to her.

‘I’ll try but I can’t see without my glasses Anyway what’s it for?’

‘To verify you’re over sixty.’

‘A long time since I was sixteen,’ mother remarked. Don’t tell me we need to be ordering hearing aids too.

That done, the next task was to assess how far she could read the rows of letters in front of her without any glasses. Precisely none; not even the gigantic T at the top. Testing out various lenses mother managed to recite some of the rows in a gummy way.

‘Ef…thee…eth…woublewoo…’

Next came the eye pressure test. I suppose I can understand mother’s confusion considering recent events and would think many of us would feel a little uncertain about what part of the anatomy to focus on when told to ‘Open Wide.’ It certainly would have been better with teeth however.

Having established it was her eyes she needed to keep open, there followed a few sticky moments when mother didn’t seem to be able to oblige, eventually resulting in her accusing the nice man of poking her in the eye. I’d have found it hard not to poke her in other places, but I guess these experts are trained to humour crabby geriatrics.

Afterwards we shuffle off to the next room to pick frames.

‘Have a seat,’ proffers the very nice receptionist. ‘I need to measure you.

‘What? All over?’

Eventually we find frames that fit and suit, mother looking in the mirror and claiming she didn’t realise her hair had gone grey. We decide an extra pair of specs is a good idea and I shall make sure they are stored at my house for future emergencies. The cheap reading glasses I bought at the chemists last week I’ll keep in my bag for Big Pam. She too has a habit of forgetting her glasses, which means my shopping expeditions with her include reading aloud size labels, price lists and menus. Well, no more, my blind-as-a-bat dear friend; I am now equipped with a case labelled 'Pam's Spare Pair.'

Finally we shuffle to the front of the shop to pay, where mother gazes out the window and exclaims,

‘Well blow me. I didn’t know we were still in Kirkby.’

‘Where did you think we were?’

‘I don’t know, but it seemed a long journey in the car.’

It takes four minutes to return her to the warmth and familiarity of her house. I sigh with relief and actually don’t find the idea of going on to the gym as unappetising as usual for some reason.

Mission accomplished. Next assignment new gnashers, but I'll need a decent recovery period and a few evenings on my intravenous wine drip before tackling that task.