The Eyes Have It

On Monday, we took Alex for his annual eye exam. As with all appointments related to his health, Alex was looking forward to his visit to the optometrist, especially because he thinks she has a pleasant voice. Since we have been going to this eye clinic for several years, we know that things typically run smoothly there, which is one of the main reasons we take Alex there. However, the normally calm office seemed a bit “chaotic,” to quote one of the staff, that day.

When we arrived, a new staff member handed me forms to fill out. The first one, part of HIPAA compliance for privacy of information, would allow Alex to give Ed and me permission to access his medical information. Since Ed and I are Alex’s legal health care representatives and have medical power of attorney, we already have this right. As I tried to explain this to the receptionist, she seemed confused and not completely convinced until another staff member told her that I was correct and the form did not need to be completed.

After that, she pulled out a colorful photograph of a human eye and started a sales pitch about the wonderful diagnostic photos their office could take of the inside of Alex’s eyes. Having had these same photographs taken of my own eyes, I knew that Alex could neither sit still long enough to have this done, nor would he like the overwhelming sensation of having a very bright flash of light in his eyes. Consequently, I told her that he could not have that part of the exam done. Undaunted, she continued her spiel, explaining that he would not need to have his eyes dilated for that test. Undaunted, I explained that Alex has autism and would not be able to do that test. Fortunately, the other woman at the desk again intervened for me, telling the receptionist, “His mom is right. She knows what he can and can’t do. He won’t have the photograph taken.” As I nodded appreciatively toward her, the receptionist seemed a bit disappointed as she put her visual aid away.

When we went for Alex’s preliminary testing with the optometry tech, Alex did a great job of cooperating and following her directions. She seemed to understand that he could not do the photograph, nor the peripheral vision test that requires more dexterity than he possesses, using a hand clicker when images appear on a screen. We appreciated her kindness toward him, especially since she praised him enthusiastically about how well he had done.

After we went back to the examination room, she and I went over Alex’s medication changes while Ed chatted with Alex, who was patiently waiting. She asked me if they could dilate his eyes, and I immediately said no a bit sharply, and then remembered my manners, adding, “Please don’t.” For all the years Alex has gone to the eye doctor, we have managed to avoid testing and dilating that might upset him and make him unwilling to go to future eye exams. Since he has no real issues other than being slightly nearsighted, we didn’t need to risk upsetting him with unnecessary procedures. She seemed to understand, and then she began the preliminary vision exam.

While wearing his glasses, Alex began to read the letters off the screen. Even though I was bothered that the letters were tilted at a slight angle because the projector was not level, Alex didn’t seem annoyed by this. For the first line of letters, he recited letters that weren’t even close to what was on the screen. When I asked him if he could see any of them clearly, he admitted that he couldn’t. I told him that if he couldn’t see something, he could just tell us that and didn’t have to make up answers. That seemed to reassure him. For the next line, which was a little larger font, he was able to identify some letters but confused a T for and I and an F for an E. At least he was getting closer. By the time he saw the third line, he was able to read all of them easily and correctly. When this test was repeated on his other eye, the process was the same, except this time, he told us that he couldn’t read any of the smallest letters, heeding my advice.

When the eye doctor came in to examine Alex’s eyes more closely, he continued to be calm and cooperative, answering her questions clearly and admitting when he was unable to read certain letters. After various tests, she concluded that his eyes are healthy, but his prescription had changed slightly. When Alex was retested with the stronger lenses, he was able to read all of the small-sized font letters easily instead of just making up letters or admitting that he couldn’t see them. That confirmed that he would need new glasses.

As we went to select frames for the new glasses, the entire staff seemed to be engaged in learning something at a computer, so we browsed the rather meager selection of Flexon frames. Because the Flexon brand is quite durable and bends rather than breaks, we have always chosen this brand for Alex, even though he takes excellent care of his glasses. By the time the optician came over to help us, I was about ready to ask for his prescription so that we could get glasses somewhere else. When I asked her if they had any other choices, she seemed a bit unnerved and admitted that she doesn’t usually work in this office. The woman at the desk who had been helpful when we arrived immediately told us that there were more frames in the back and that she would get them for us. Soon, she returned with two boxes of frames, and we quickly found a few we liked. Because Alex isn’t terribly picky about the appearance of his glasses, Ed and I agreed on a pair similar to the one he already has.

Next, we had to order the lenses, which we thought would be simple since it had only been two or three years since he last ordered glasses. However, the optician told us that they get rid of the electronic files after a couple of years, so we weren’t sure whether that information was available or not. After rolling my eyes at Ed, trying to contain my growing annoyance, the optician was able to locate the previous information, saving us time.

Thinking we were now home free, another staff member informed us that they couldn’t take a credit card payment because they were switching to a new system. She seemed a bit overwhelmed until I assured her that after we went home, I would come back with my checkbook and pay with a check, figuring that was the simplest solution. Despite all the unexpected issues that had arisen during this visit, Alex seemed completely unfazed. As I could feel my frustration rising, I knew that Alex was handling these small annoyances correctly by smiling and being polite and patient. If he could be content, so could I.

After Ed and I took Alex home, we praised him for being pleasant and cooperative at the eye doctor. Then, I returned to the eye clinic to pay for Alex’s exam and glasses. The kind woman who had been supportive apologized to me for the “chaotic” atmosphere and hoped that Alex hadn’t been upset by anything that had happened. I thanked her for her help and assured her that he was fine. She commented that Alex always does well, adding that the eye doctor and tech had also remarked on what a great job he had done. Despite the various minor issues, Alex had successfully completed his annual eye exam. Perhaps more importantly, he reminded me through his calm demeanor not to be upset by little things. Instead of focusing on the paperwork issues, he was interacting with the staff in a positive way, making a favorable impression. Needless to say, we’re awfully proud of the young man we have raised who sees––even without his glasses––what’s truly important in life.

“Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.” I Corinthians 13:12