Doctor My Eyes

Last night.Toronto. I had gotten directions to a local sushi place.  OK. I was given the directions an hour earlier and I have short term memory issues. But…since I refuse to acknowledge them the map and directions stay in  my room. This was not going to be hard.

Out of the hotel is Front St. Turn right a short distance to John and another right and several blocks to Queen. Look for the Starbucks then the small grocery store and then the restaurant. No problem.

A nice night and it is still light at 8 pm. Onward. Five blocks later I know something is wrong. No John St. and it should not have been more than 2 blocks from the hotel. Fortunately there is a bus stop on every corner and a map at every bus stop. Got to love Canada.

A nonchalant stroll up to the map to check out the scene. I find myself standing there for several minutes. I have a problem. Not a life threatening problem mind you. After all the hotel is only five blocks away and at this point I am fairly confident that the right turn should have been left. It is still light out and a very pleasant evening. Except for one thing.

I CAN’T READ THE BLOODY MAP.

My eyes are not perfect. In fact I have worn glasses since the sixth grade . But my ocular affliction is  nearsightedness so reading usually comes easily even without glasses. I can get up in the morning and get around without needing to find my glasses.

All of you in your forties and later years have been ready to pounce for a paragraph or two. Are you too vain to wear reading glasses. You know that you can get them for a few bucks at CVS.  Ah ha. It was a trap. Got you. I already wear trifocols with readers built right in!

Still I stood there. Glasses on.Glasses off. Squinting. Right eye. Left eye. Nothing worked. This has never happened to me before. I am frustrated beyond words–at least any I know. F–K!

I remember many years ago listening to people about ten years older than me share stories about their various deteriorating body parts and functions. I decided then and there on a life rule.  I would NEVER become one of those stereotypical old men grumbling about their health to other people grumbling about theirs. One modification to the rule. No complaining about anthing from the neck down. Those are the gross areas. I reserve the right to complain about my deteriorating mind and eyes. maybe my ears. That’s it.

The evening at least ends well. I head back in the other direction. Find John St. Find the intersection of Queen St. and John St. Find the Starbucks, the grocery and the restaurant. The food was good, surprising and incredibly cheap. That almost made up for whatever is happening to my vision. Almost.