The Disappointment of Being Old

We sat in the Opthamologist's office for the matriarch's annual appointment. Nothing has changed in her eyes--not that I can see anyhow. She still wears her black sunglasses when we drive about town, window rolled down and her hair blowing in the wind. So, we begin our conversation:

He might give me drops, you know.

Why? Is your eye bothering you? The doctor took you off the drops last year because you developed an allergy to the drops but there was nothing wrong with your eye.

But I am old, you know.

The visit to the doctor lasted all of five minutes: he wished her a belated happy birthday and checked both her eyes, the blind one is still blind and the one that is almost blind is still almost blind. She sees what she can see. Then, he wished us a pleasant afternoon, asked us to make an appointment for next year and that was that. My mother-in-law was not happy; she was almost belligerent.

Why are you so angry? There is nothing wrong with your eyes.

He should given me something; he could have made me see better.

He told you last year there was nothing he could do.

He could have told me that again.

Why? You already know.

The woman was royally disappointed for the rest of the day.