Beautiful bureaucracy
Friday afternoon I had my bi-annual medical exam required to keep my ATC license valid. I was slightly worried because in the past year I have noticed a slight change in my eyesight. After reading for extended periods of time, if I try to focus on something further away, the edges of it seem a bit blurry. I know I should have gone for an eye exam before the medical but of course, being a procrastinator in denial, I didn't.
This specific doctor only treats pilots and air traffic controllers. All day those are the people she and her assistant see. I sat at the front desk while the assistant questioned me. Some basic questions. Name, address, date of birth. Then she asked me for my employer's name. That struck me as a bit odd considering there is only one employer in the country for this job. "Nav Canada," I said. "How do you spell that?" "Er. N-A-V, as in, the one company responsible of air traffic control in the country?" "Oh that's right," she says, "you're a controller." So, as she reads off the form, "do you do this for business or leisure?" I laugh. "Excuse me?" She frowns. "Is this a serious question? Do I coordinate the flow of air traffic in a safe, orderly and expeditious way for business or leisure?" "Oh," she says, noncommittally. Suddenly I wondered if I shouldn't have chosen a different office. Fate's sense of humor is otherworldly indeed.
After a hearing test, we get to the eye test. I peer into the machine and see the neat rows of black letters on a yellowed background. First test: Right eye, far vision. "Read the smallest row you can," she says. There are 7. I see the sixth one clearly but the seventh is a bit blurry. I'd have to guess what the letters are. I read the sixth one thinking, they usually have one line smaller than 20/20 to see if people have better than normal vision, right? Left eye now. "Read the smallest li..." damnit. I see the seventh one clearly.
The doctor is a middle-aged woman with kind features and a warm, motherly smile. I find myself liking and trusting her instantly while wondering why this is the first time I ever feel like that towards a physician. What a messed up world. She asks me some questions about my medical history. Then, out of no where, "any tattoos?" "Er. Yes..." "Where and depicting what?" I'm suddenly glad it's not a downward red arrow on my pubic bone. "A quill in an inkwell on my right shoulder," I say out loud. "May I ask why this question?" "It can help identify the body," she says. In my mind, I see the newspaper headlines: "BODY OF VICTIM PIECED BACK TOGETHER THANKS TO FULL BODY TATTOO OF MICHELANGELO'S THE LAST JUDGEMENT!" I stare at her. "But I'm..." She smiles knowingly. "It's a question for pilots but Transport Canada left it on the form for controllers as well." Beautiful bureaucracy.
My medical is renewed. My right eye is 20/30 for far, 20/20 for near. My left eye is 20/20 everywhere and combined, my two eyes give me a 20/20 vision. No glasses needed. Rejoice!
This specific doctor only treats pilots and air traffic controllers. All day those are the people she and her assistant see. I sat at the front desk while the assistant questioned me. Some basic questions. Name, address, date of birth. Then she asked me for my employer's name. That struck me as a bit odd considering there is only one employer in the country for this job. "Nav Canada," I said. "How do you spell that?" "Er. N-A-V, as in, the one company responsible of air traffic control in the country?" "Oh that's right," she says, "you're a controller." So, as she reads off the form, "do you do this for business or leisure?" I laugh. "Excuse me?" She frowns. "Is this a serious question? Do I coordinate the flow of air traffic in a safe, orderly and expeditious way for business or leisure?" "Oh," she says, noncommittally. Suddenly I wondered if I shouldn't have chosen a different office. Fate's sense of humor is otherworldly indeed.
After a hearing test, we get to the eye test. I peer into the machine and see the neat rows of black letters on a yellowed background. First test: Right eye, far vision. "Read the smallest row you can," she says. There are 7. I see the sixth one clearly but the seventh is a bit blurry. I'd have to guess what the letters are. I read the sixth one thinking, they usually have one line smaller than 20/20 to see if people have better than normal vision, right? Left eye now. "Read the smallest li..." damnit. I see the seventh one clearly.
The doctor is a middle-aged woman with kind features and a warm, motherly smile. I find myself liking and trusting her instantly while wondering why this is the first time I ever feel like that towards a physician. What a messed up world. She asks me some questions about my medical history. Then, out of no where, "any tattoos?" "Er. Yes..." "Where and depicting what?" I'm suddenly glad it's not a downward red arrow on my pubic bone. "A quill in an inkwell on my right shoulder," I say out loud. "May I ask why this question?" "It can help identify the body," she says. In my mind, I see the newspaper headlines: "BODY OF VICTIM PIECED BACK TOGETHER THANKS TO FULL BODY TATTOO OF MICHELANGELO'S THE LAST JUDGEMENT!" I stare at her. "But I'm..." She smiles knowingly. "It's a question for pilots but Transport Canada left it on the form for controllers as well." Beautiful bureaucracy.
My medical is renewed. My right eye is 20/30 for far, 20/20 for near. My left eye is 20/20 everywhere and combined, my two eyes give me a 20/20 vision. No glasses needed. Rejoice!
posted by Nathalie at 2:15 PM
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