I don't even know who I should be angry at, me, the hospital, the doctor, the weather, or maybe my ancestors who didn’t warn me about this day.
But one thing is sure: today tested me.
Let me just say it now: I spent the whole entire day walking about like someone who escaped from Yaba Left. I didn’t even look like someone with a mission. I looked like a frustrated soul chasing air. From the hospital, to the frame shop, back to the hospital, then to the office, then back to the hospital again. And for what? Let me tell you.
Let’s rewind to how it all started…
This morning, I woke up feeling responsible.
I told myself, “Today, I will handle all my eye wahala. Today is the day I collect back control of my vision and my life.”
Beautiful, right? So I carried my already tired body and went to the hospital to drop off the frame I just bought so they can fix the lenses. I was even smiling. SMILING.
Do you know how much that frame cost me? Let’s just say the frame was so fine, I nearly gave it a pet name.
Anyway, I dropped the frame and went to the office. I was feeling productive, like someone that will soon be seeing 4K HD quality with fresh lenses.
Only for me to get a call from the hospital:
“Hello, ma, the doctor said he didn’t read your file properly. You have different eye conditions in each eye, so you’ll be needing different prescriptions.”
EXCUSE ME???
Wait, rewind.
This same doctor that checked my eyes.
This same doctor that wrote the prescription.
You mean to tell me… this man looked me dead in the eyes and didn’t SEE that my eyes were not the same?
Is this not an eye clinic? Shouldn’t seeing be their strong point?
How can you be working in an eye hospital and you’re not even observing with your own eyes?
Sir, I trusted you with my cornea!
I left the office, angry but trying to remain calm. I got back to the hospital, only for them to tell me I’d have to change the lenses to match the new prescriptions, and that would cost an extra 15K.
Fifteen. Thousand. Naira.
At that moment, I just sat down quietly. I was too shocked to even shout. My spirit left my body briefly to confirm if this was real life or one of those WhatsApp chain dreams.
I asked the woman at the counter, “So I should just pay again because the doctor didn’t read properly?”
She said, “Yes, ma. It’s a new prescription now.”
I said, “Oh, okay. Should I also pay again for the air I breathed while waiting?”
Honestly, the rage that boiled inside me could’ve powered NEPA for a week.
All the stress, all the waka, all the time wasted, only for someone that went to medical school to tell me, “Oh, I didn’t notice.”
Sir, what were you noticing before? My shoe size??
So yes, I paid in the amount I came with but not without complaining to the head doctor abi nah supervisor , and her screaming her lungs out at the doctor that kept stressing me.
I paid not because I’m rich o, but because I want to see, I want to read small fonts without holding my phone like a binocular. I want to see people’s facial expressions from afar so I can mind my business properly. I want to stop squinting like someone decoding secret messages.
After paying, I carried myself back home like a beaten goat. And to the doctor who “missed” my different eye issues, thank you for giving me a reason to rant today.
You made me realize that even professionals can look you in the face and still miss what’s right in front of them.
And to myself, I say this: next time, don’t be too eager to drop frames. Let them triple-check everything, because this life is full of “oops sorry” that cost money.
Let me go and eat bread and cry in peace.
I can’t even see clearly yet, but I can definitely feel the pain in 1080p.
