At 76, I'm not sure that I need glasses. Yet as I'm sitting at the computer screen putting together this article, I figure that I can use any help I can get.

Do I need glasses? Not really. Do they help? Well, that's what this story is all about.

As I alluded to, I spend too much time in front of my 27-inch computer display. And because it is "muy grande," I tend to sit about three feet away from it.

Hey, for those who know me, you probably know that my comfort level with languages, other than American English, is somewhat short of null. So why have I introduced a Spanish expression? Well, Adele and I and some family are going to Mexico — and I am going full Duolingo in preparation. Test me! "Dónde está el baño?" I am!

Anyway, other than trying to focus on the Big Screen, I more typically have the problem of focusing on items much closer — like the keyboard that I'm pecking on — misspelling and correcting. It sure helps to see what I'm doing. And I can see — fairly well most of the time.

But then there's prescription bottles, and a host of similar bottles that have, in muy grande letters "Caution, read carefully before using." And that is followed by several paragraphs in eight point font. I have a large magnifier near my desk to attend to that challenge — sometimes even needing to supplement it with a pair of cheaters.

So, some time ago, when I found out that my health plan includes a pair of glasses every two years, I opted to check it out.

I went to several eye doctors — one problem after another. The first one said they had to take my picture. OK. But then I demanded that I take their picture and they threw me out.

At the second one, I asked for computer glasses, and the eye doctor took his lenses and started moving them away. And when they reached about 18 inches, he said, "That's as far as he could go." Strange, I thought, hasn't the eye doctor industry heard of computer monitors?

Finally, I found an eye doctor I could work with. He measured me, and wrote a prescription. The glasses didn't help. I went back, and we decided to try progressive lenses. Better but the distance wasn't sharp and the close up wasn't enlarged enough.

Plus, he said I had borderline glaucoma — and I needed a special test to confirm it. In the meantime, he prescribed some eyedrops that had a potential side effect of turning my blue eyes to brown.

I had the test — a problematic test. There were lights that flashed on and off at different places on a screen. That was fine, except, every time a light flashed, the machine made a grinding sound. After a few cycles, I couldn't decide if I was responding to the light flashes or the sounds. The results — definitely the beginnings of glaucoma.

Back to the eye doctor. I told him that the test was faulty and shouldn't be believed. He told me that it was the "Gold Standard." I've heard this before — and I always remember that we are off the gold standard.

So, he personally gave me another test — and surprise, surprise — I passed with flying colors. No glaucoma. No potential brown eyes.

Back to the glasses. Why is it when you go to a doctor or a car dealer, you come asking for one thing, and they go off on a tangent with something else?

So, this time, I brought my wife, Adele. I thought that she would be handy — and besides, I would not later have to explain the details of my examination.

After a quick review, the doc suggested bifocals. He figured that if I need help looking near and far, BFs would be my new BF. So he set up his charts and stuff to measure my ocularity. The close-up was by the book based on my desire to read the eight point prescription bottles — there should be a law about them — but the distance was a bit more of a challenge.

To simulate the three foot distance to my monitor, he had to position his chart at that distance — way beyond the range of his arm. Fortunately, Adele was there to hold the card and allow the doc to adjust the lens selection instrument.

All in all it seemed to work out — with the one proviso. With Adele now in the middle of the action, she was taking over for me and telling the doc what I wanted, or shall I say, what she thought that I wanted — not necessarily what I wanted.

Well, I'm now breaking in my BFs. I'm using them for the first time now, and they may work — pretty good, not perfect. Probably would have been perfect if Adele hadn't reinterpreted what I was looking for.

Well, I guess that I'm Al in Wonderland testing my way through the looking glasses.

~ Al Zagofsky