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Is it my brain or is it my eye. I've lost the hope in seeking out help. Just 3 years ago in the summer of my 24th birthday I was resolute about seeking out help. I went out to an eye doctor, actually it's one of those places where you get a pair of glasses by a guy who just asks you what lens looks better to you through that rotating thingy they make you look through. This was an endeavor I engaged on my own. I paid on my own. I went to this oriental looking eye doctor with a more dire and desperate purpose. I wanted him to discover me. I wanted him to take me under his wing. As I waited in the lobby for my meeting with him I had the same desperate feeling I had always had when I visited clinics when I was a kid. The sterile air and nervousness that always hung over me in anticipation of trying to communicate what I really wanted to say to the doctor. We went through the usual eye-examination routine till we got to the individual eye tests. When I could barely read the top line with my singled out right eye it became apparent that there was a problem. This was my chance to try and spill my heart out about having a lazy eye. There were a million things I wanted to confess. When I finally entered the examination room I was high strung and my voice was shaky and slightly frantic as I tried to explain my predicament. I might have come out too aggressive. I was spewing bits of knowledge I have learned about amblyopia to him and he seemed to think it was an intellectual challenge. He dragged a chair right in line with me across the room, sat down, crossed his legs and rested his face on hand and fingers and proceeded to zero in on me as if we were to have a debate. I communicated all that I could muster and then the doctor began he explanation of what was actually occurring with my vision. He explained to me good insights towards how my eyes were working and I was enjoying learning what he had to say but we couldn't spend the whole day there. He eventually realized that I was there not really there for an eye examination but almost to seek a savior. He read my body language and his demeanor changed from trying to intellectually trying to lock horns with me to a compassionate fatherly loving human being. He became concerned and seemed to genuinely sympathize with a person he saw lost in the world trying to find a savior. When our small talk was over we gave each other our thanks, gook luck, and good byes. I walked out to the receptionist window where I had to wait a moment for her to create the receipt for my appointment. I sat back down on one of the lobby chairs and waited when I heard the doctor's door open. He came out to the lobby and sat in one of the chairs next to me gave me a number or an address, I can't remember and again wished me the best of luck. I gave him thanks and appreciation and he walked back into the back offices. I got my receipt from the receptionist and walked out of the ophthalmologist office feeling I got the same runaround I've got from doctors all my life. They all just seem to tell me the same thing. Beyond age 10 it's pretty much "set in stone" as this doctor told me. I drove back home and here I am three years later writing this.
