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Vision

“Just because a man lacks the use of his eyes doesn't mean he lacks vision.”

— Stevie Wonder

I told you all about going to the doctor, and while I was happy that the engine is still running strong, my outlook looking forward wasn't as fine. In fact, it was downright blurry — at least at close range.

I didn't want to go to another doctor, but being an adult means doing things you don't want to do such as paying taxes, being responsible, or having to watch a Disney musical with a toddler. I know, I know, just ... let it go. (See what I did there?) It wasn't a danger but it was a bit irritating. I noticed that when I was reading a book my arms would begin moving away from my face until I looked like a mummy trying to educate itself. As with all things, eventually irritation led to action, and I reluctantly scheduled a visit.

I say reluctantly because I get squeamish knowing that the eye-puff machine was a part of the procedure. Why is having a little huff of air the scariest experience I can imagine? True story: I was helping my dad fix his lawnmower once and while we were both trying to put on a drive belt I somehow sliced the tip of my finger right to the bone. I still have the scar to prove it. Did I scream? Did I pass out? Nope. I wrapped my blood-soaked hand in an old rag and kept working till dad was able to cut the lawn. Before you crown me a stoic, read back a few sentences where I said a little wisp of air was keeping me from getting an exam.

I don't know why I was afraid. Out of all the medical professions the eye doctor has to be the least scary. Seriously, you've never heard of someone dying after reading an eye chart. There's no intensive care unit at an optometrist. The doctor didn't even wear scrubs. She was dressed in a lovely cardigan and sported high heeled shoes. The only other time I've seen a medical person in high heels was at a bachelor party, which is whole other story entirely.

I was examined and even survived the visual air blast after only six attempts, which is a personal best for me. I learned that from here on out I'd be needing bifocals. Hearing I needed to wear bifocals had me wondering if I should sell the house and buy a condo in Florida. I pictured myself playing shuffleboard, keeping hard candies in my pockets and learning to play Gin.

Again, I was being silly about the eye doctor. With my new glasses I can see that bifocals don't make you old, they make you see clearly. So instead of focusing on the negative I'm staring at the positive. And it's easier to see things positively when things are actually in focus.

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Auburn native Bradley Molloy’s column appears here each Sunday. He can be reached at lovonian@hotmail.com

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