Logically, I should have been ecstatic that I finally decided to go to the doctor, but I was scared beyond belief. My visit to the Optometry School at UC Berkeley was one of the hardest things I had ever done. I knew very well what images the students were showing through the lenses (a tail and head of a cat) and I was frustrated when I could not hold the two images together for more than a moment. I saw the head with my left eye and the tail with my right eye and as I alternated between both eyes, I could only see the entire cat for a short second. The tests the student optometrists administered were harder than any of the exams I had taken as a student on the same campus. If I couldn’t answer a test prompt as an undergraduate at Cal, I knew it was because I hadn’t studied hard enough, but there was no preparation for me as a patient in the eye clinic. I could either see the two images in stereopsis or I couldn’t. There was no fancy bullshitting through an essay or creativity involved in my answers. Black or white. Yes I can see or no I can’t. Here I was, unable to BS my way through a test or study harder for the next exam. I was exposed and powerless. Trying to maintain my composure, I didn’t ball in front of the doctoral students, but they must have noticed my green hazel eyes turn bright green by the color of my tears.

Hardes

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