why I hate the eye doctor even more than the dentist

I had an eye appointment today at 10:15. I got there at 9:45 so I could look at frames before my eyes were dialated.

First there was the deserted front desk. Yes, it is Saturday, sure. When the nurse finally found the receptionist, there was muttered snottiness and then the receptionist complaining. I spent twenty minutes looking at frames, and narrowed it down to two. Went back to the waiting room to sit with Scott and the Zweeble. At 10:25, I was called back.

I spent another ten or so minutes waiting in the room. Then the young nurse comes in and asks me questions. I explain that I probably need an eye exam in general, but that I've been occasionally seeing double in the middle of the night. Okay. She begins fiddling with the equipment, and she keeps saying, "I don't know how to work this one ..."

She has me put my chin in the chin-doohickey, and asks me how long I was waiting today. I tell her about 45 minutes, and she says, annoyed, "I don't know how they expect us to get out of here by noon like we're *supposed* to."

O-kay ...

"I need to move you to another room," she then says. All right. I follow her to another room. Along the way, another nurse asks her why she's moving me. She responds, and I quote: "I can't use the machine in there--there's too much buttons."

I'm really not feeling confident about my eye exam, here.

So she does her bit of my exam, using a machine that has a joystick, and then leaves. I wait. And wait. It's about 11. The first nurse comes back in, looks at the chart, and shakes her head. "Why were you moved in here?" she asks.

"Something about the machine ... ?" I say, and she just rolls her eyes. She also tells me the young nurse kept calling me Kelly. Kelly. Seriously, how do you get "Kelly" out of "Laura"? I don't have a 'k' *anywhere* in my name.

After *her* bit of the exam, I wait. And wait. And wait. I look around. I pick up the little intstruments the doctor uses to peer into your eyes, and peer through them at the room. I wait some more. The young nurse comes back in--I notice her name is Tiffany-- and asks, "Laura [hooray, my correct name!], did you need the Bactrin?"

"No," I say--huh?--and she turns without a word and leaves. I contemplate whether or not sugarcoatedlie might be able to sue this young woman for defamation of first name, or contributing to the ongoing stereotyping of Tiffanys everywhere.

At 11:35, the doctor comes in. My eyes have not gotten better in the five years since my last eye exam, but they're still okay. Really, I wear my glasses so that I feel a bit better when I drive, but they aren't a requirement for it. The doctor is trying to convince me that: a. the glasses will make me feel more confident behind the wheel, and b. I shouldn't feel bad that I need glasses. Um ... preaching to the choir, dude, I have no qualms about my glasses. With an air of surprise, he tells me I have a good attitude about this. I think, Please, I went for a checkup at 10 in the morning and had a baby at 10 that night; you can't freak me out with a new lens prescription.

11:45, and I'm heading out to get frames. So I look some more. And some more after that. I want plain, boring black plastic frames. The plain ones are all $200+; the "cheap" ones all have rhinestones. Can I get a man's frame?

At this point, I hear the Zweeble crying--he's hungry. I head out to see if I can help, but Scott has it under control. I still don't know how much longer it'll be.

Well, on my way back into Optical, I am found by the dude who will go over my benefits with me so I can choose frames. Except he can't find my benefits information. At all. I pull out the four pages of benefits information I printed the night before, and he says that my plan has recently changed ID numbers, and he doesn't have mine, and they're closed today ... so I can't order glasses today. And no, my four pages of personalized eligibility information isn't good enough to, say, fill out the order forms and hold them until he can get the rest of the information. No, he's going to have to call me Monday to come back in.

I look at my watch. It's 12:20. We go to the reception desk, where she checks my file and says that nobody pulled my insurance when I called two weeks ago for an appointment--this is because when they asked if I still had the same insurance, I said yes, and they took that to mean my health insurance and negelected to see if I had a vision plan specifically. So she doesn't know what my co-pay is. My four pages of personalized eligibility information *are* enough, however, for her to go ahead and charge me for the exam.

We head home. I go to the computer and look up other eye doctors. I find a place that's a bit like Lenscrafters, where I can take my new prescription and possibly have my glasses in an hour (assuming my insurance will allow that), and I can just walk in.

I write down their address and phone number. And now ... now I await Optical dude's phone call on Monday.

When I shall wreak my revenge ... or just let the voice mail pick up and never call him back.

***

I made brownies from scratch tonight. Not sure how they are, yet.