You still see the read, don't you?

"Excuse me, Doctor, but to avoid confusion and confusion, I say immediately that I am blind and see nothing," I politely announce when I step in the door of another doctor's office. I imagine how the doctor's gaze then measures me intently and curiously. After leading me to the chair in front of the doctor's desk and placing my arm on the back of my chair, my attendant leaves the office to wait for me at the door. I look at the place where I heard the greeting when I entered the office, and I look anxiously at the doctor. Soon, the doctor says quite happily that there is nothing wrong, we can do well. As the visit progresses, he hands me the treatment room, puts my hand on the couch, and tries to help me get dressed. He probably thinks that no blind person can do anything on his own, I discuss myself and make it clear to the doctor that I can handle dressing myself. In a word, the doctor aunt tries to support me as a blind person every step of the way, and finally the review is done and we go back to the desk together. On the way back, the doctor is pretty anxious that I still won't fall down on that sucker door and I won't accidentally miss a chair.
The Doctor is now starting to clicker on the computer keyboard and soon I will hear the printer start up and something print out. The doctor will explain to me my state of health and the planned examinations, and I am anxiously awaiting when he calls me at the door and sends me the documents intended for me. If the printer stumbles and the doctor hears me sniffing at the papers, I already open my mouth to say that these papers can be delivered directly to me. But oh surprise - I can hear the doctor putting the papers next to me on a corner of the desk and saying in a completely natural tone: So you can read it yourself at home? You still see to read? "