E P B M O L

I'm seeing things. No, that's literally what I was told at the doctor's office last Friday. 

This doesn't come as a surprise at all, as my mental faculties have been in decline as of late. Not in a major way that would be cause for concern, just the normal walking into a room and forgetting why. Not being able to retrieve a particular word, for instance, shelf. That happened last week. Or waking up on a Saturday, turning all my clocks forward and then turning then back again because I never know what day it is.

These are the typical de-occupational hazards of being retired. 

Someone told me that, but I forget who.

Back to my hallucinations, which produced great consternation for Ms. Muse who said, "When was the last time you had an eye exam?" 

Turns out it was during the Obama administration.

So I arranged for an eye exam at my ophthalmologist in tony Beverly Hills. There, I saw, or thought I saw, Gus from Breaking Bad, purchasing some very expensive frames. Are frame sales to Ophthalmology Offices what Gift Shops are to Museums?

I also saw this on my way to the bathroom...

No wonder the rest of the country thinks we're flakes.

When I finally did see the doctor, through blurry stinging eyes thanks to the dilation, I explained the cause for my visit which was apparently 7 years too late.

"When I look at a blank white wall or stare up at the ceiling upon waking in the morning, I'm seeing patterns."

"What kind of patterns?" replied the young doctor who was young enough to be my granddaughter.

"Yellow honeycomb patterns. I had a consult with Dr. Internet and got worried."

"Oh, Dr. Internet, I wish he would retire," she said.

She then explained in very reassuring terms that I had a mild case of VSS -- Visual Snow Syndrome. It's a thing. Really. You can Google it.

"Your eyes are in near perfect shape. With your glasses on you have 20/25 vision, which is pretty good. What you're seeing is an illusion. Your brain is fighting the blankness of a white wall. In other words, it's looking for patterns and when it can't find one it creates it. Oddly enough, this often happens to creative or artistic people. Does that describe you?"

Finally, I thought, some concrete validation that would relieve me of my Writer's Imposter Syndrome.

"Well, I'm a copywriter in advertising," I replied.

"Mmmm, maybe we should do some more testing."