Wow! It’s amazing
what happens when I actually have glasses that are closer to my eyesight.
Let’s face it, middle age ain’t no picnic. Things start to go that shouldn’t be going
anywhere. Or, rather, things stop going
where they’re supposed to and when they’re supposed to – things like knees and
hips and lower backs. Countless times I’ve
been in front of the class when an attempt to turn becomes nothing more than an
awkward semi-movement accompanied by a loud snapping sound, sometimes followed
by a grimace and an occasional “Ow.”
Students: “What
was that noise?”
Me: “My right hip.”
Out of all the things that have started to take their own
siestas, my eyesight bothers me the most.
It started a few years ago when I noticed that I couldn’t thread a
needle anymore. No matter how close I
got to the needle’s eye with my eyes, I couldn’t focus. Turns out what I needed to do was pull the
needle away from my face. Far away. Far as in “my arms just aren’t long enough” away.
Years ago the eye doctor told me that this is normal for “people
(my) age.” If I could see him, I would’ve
smacked him. So I started wearing
reading glasses. I started with
+1.25. This was about the time I had
foot surgery and couldn’t move easily, so I ordered six cheap pairs and left
them in various places all over the house for easy access. Then I moved up to +1.50. Then +1.75.
I noticed at school that I couldn’t read the text books
easily and that my reading glasses were starting to help me with short
distances, too, like watching television.
This summer while sewing beanbags for my daughter and son-in-law’s
Cornhole game, I had to beg for help with the needle-threading and even broke
out a magnifying glass.
Which brings me to the present. I realize that it has been years, maybe six,
since my last eye exam, so I call and make an appointment. I go through the whole exam, the air blasts
to the eyeballs (I like that one), then the eye drops to dilate the pupils (I
don’t like that one), followed by bright lights and lots of attempts to read
lines of blurry letters and numbers.
The end result: Not only am I blinder than I ever
suspected, I have astigmatism in my left eye.
The bad news is the lenses to correct all of my middle-aged eye issues
are expensive and take a few weeks to get used to. Since my insurance doesn’t cover glasses, and
since I don’t have weeks to get used to the vertigo of progressive lenses, I ask
what my other options are.
This is where I get the good news. Actually, I get two pieces of good news. The first piece of good news is that I still
fall within the legal limits to drive without distance glasses, and, truth be
told, I can see just fine if I’m looking beyond the GPS. The second piece of good news is that I can
get away with reading glasses just a little bit longer. Silly me, I figure I can get away with the
ones I have at home, maybe even sneak up to +2.00.
Nope. One eye is
+2.75 and the other is +3.00. No wonder
I couldn’t thread a needle with +1.75 lenses.
This revelation sends me to my favorite store for reading
glasses – Christmas Tree Shop. I decide
to buy in bulk since glasses are 3 for $12.
I buy myself six pairs, just like I did when I was housebound in a cast
when this whole fiasco started with my eyes in the first place. I buy all +2.75, and not a moment too
soon. As I am helping College Boy get
ready for his senior year, he needs a couple of things sewn and repaired. Nervously I put on my new glasses, sit down
at the sewing machine, and lament the fact that I will need to change thread
colors not once, but twice.
I look at the machine and realize … I can see the eye of
the needle. For the first time since
2008, I can see the damn hole, and I have no problem threading the needle … two
times … both on the first tries.
Amazing.
I’m so incredibly excited that I start grabbing some
stuff that has been in my “desperately needs to be sewn or repaired or altered”
pile for years. I actually alter three
shirts that needed some minor stuff sewn, and I change the thread for a third
time … on the first try.
If I’m this productive with plain old reading glasses,
imagine how my life will change when I finally break down and get myself those
progressive lenses. Watch out,
people! My driving might even
improve. (Okay, that last one might not
be related to my eyesight since I don’t think corrective lenses will ease my
lead-foot issue.) Next thing you know I’ll
read a book just for pleasure instead of attempting to decipher a text book for
school.
Now, if I could just do something about the snap-crackle-pop
of my hips and knees, I might be onto something.
