Q-Ray, It's A Miracle, or How My Belief in Mankind Was Restored. A little bit.

While shopping in a mall recently, I turned to walk into a store that I thought was a pharmacy, but turned out to be an optometrist. Shelf after shelf of bejeweled, designer eyeglass frames gave it away instantly. I turned to walk back out and thought, what the hey, it's time for an eye appointment anyway. I figure every couple or three of years is a good enough schedule for this.. I’ve been getting my eyes checked by the same optometrist for the last ten years now, but something held me there, in that new place. Psychic vibes? Positive energy? Instinct? Or maybe the fact that I’m too lazy to look up my own optometrist's phone number? Heh.

I firmly believe in gut instinct, so I looked around again with a bit more interest. Nice place, looked a bit on the pricey side. The receptionist was eyeing me expectantly, waiting for me to say something. So I walked over and asked for an appointment. Hell, let’s make it three, one for me, one for each of my kids. She marked down the date and time, handed me a card, and off I went, wondering what my gut instinct was up to.

A week later and it’s time to leave for our appointment. Daughter One (for future reference, we can call her Sassy), is ready to go, Daughter Two (Feisty) cannot find her medical card. I tell her she will have to stay home, we gotta leave now. If you can’t find your card, not to worry, we will make you another appointment for next week. Sassy decides to drag her friend along, since there is room in the car now. I love sports cars. Hey, sue me. Off we go.

We are shown into the waiting area, where we wait on comfortable leather bench seats, and are soon ushered into the optometrists office. He is immediately likable, puts my daughter at ease with his questions regarding her vision, says a couple of funny things, and then I notice his wrist…is that a frikkin Q-RAY bracelet?? Say it ain’t so. Say I am not about to trust my (our) vision to this lunatic wearing a miracle pain-away hunk of metal alloy! Nay! I freeze. Do I mention it? No, better not to. Do I drag my offspring kickin and screamin out the door? No, do not panic. Let’s give the man a shot. Off he goes to test my daughters vision, so I sit back and ponder. Perhaps someone else bought it for him, I think to myself, grasping at straws. Surely a grown man, a professional optometrist, does not buy himself a Q-Ray. No, sounds like something a daughter would do. I look around the office, searching out family pictures. Indeed, there they are. Hmmm. When he returns, I await the proper moment, and say something along the lines of “Kids these days, know what I mean?” and he says, yes, he has 4, two girls and two boys. Phew! I think to myself, a glimmer of hope.

By the end of the session, he has assured me that my eyes are fine, I do not need to spend a million dollars on a brand new pair of flashy designer glasses, but I do have a slight infection. (knew that…) He gives me a prescription for antibacterial eye drops. Sassy though, she needs glasses, I knew that, too. She gets an eyeglass prescription, and some advice about her eyes, and out the door we go, not a penny poorer. Sassy will need glasses, she can come back and choose a pair. But I am relieved to have been let off with the eyewear I already wear. I wear. Haha.

Climbing into the car, I think to myself, what a great optometrist. Charming, likable, professional, knows his stuff. And loves his kids enough to risk his credibility as a doctor by wearing a Q-Ray to work. The world needs more people like this.

Thanking my gut, I drive home. Thanks, gut!