I have glasses again. And I got the biggest ones I could find, as if to hide my face, for I am distressed.
After wearing glasses, then contacts, then glasses again for a total of 44 years (I was 10 when I started), I had Lasik surgery about 10 years ago. I wanted to have it sooner, but the technique for adjusting an astigmatism hadn’t been perfected. When I finally had the operation, it was a huge success. I’ve been so very pleased with my distance eye and my reading eye; unlike a lot of my friends, I adjusted immediately to schizophrenic vision, without disorientation or dizziness, even on stairs.
But some months ago, I started noticing that I didn’t see so well from afar. First I couldn’t read the slides on the screen during presentations, but I thought I was just sitting too far back. Then I had a hard time recognizing people as they approached me. “I bet it’s the lighting,” I told myself. But when street signs and then highway numbers blurred even at close range, I knew I was in trouble.
So 5-6 months after this admission (actually, that’s a pretty fast pace for someone having to deal with such obvious signs of aging, in my opinion, and aren’t you glad you weren’t driving around with me during this period?), I saw my ophthalmologist. Well, if she stood close enough I could see her.
It’s not unusual to need a refinement of Lasik surgery after 10 years. I was prepared for that. But I was not at all prepared for the diagnosis: I have a cataract – A CATARACT! – on my distance eye. When did I get so old?
It’s a small one, to be sure, in fact too small to remove at the moment. Put another way, my vision hasn’t deteriorated enough to justify its removal. My loss is .75 whatever-the-measurement-is. It’s not until the loss is at 1.0 that cataract surgery is recommended. And cataract removal (a permanent remedy) trumps Lasik enhancement (a temporary one). Thus, the glasses. My doctor kindly wrote “Driving Glasses” on the prescription, probably sensing my devastation and trying to assure me that my use of this aid is required only for that activity.
I know how hard I am on flimsy items, like wire-rimmed glasses and small plastic frames, so I sought sturdiness. 
I had to go to 3 stores to find the big, solid frames I wanted. I like them so much I got 2 pair, exactly the same – sunglasses and regular ones. They are very big, ridiculously big, perhaps reflecting how ridiculous I find the need for glasses again is. And they are very expensive. The heck with it, I told myself; I’m too ticked off about the whole thing to think economically. Somewhere along the way I’ve come to connect irritation and indulgence: the more frustrated I am about something, the more I indulge myself as a way to make myself feel better. Up ’til now the indulgences have involved things like ice cream and M&Ms. But now I’ve spent real money. Plus the darn cases are so big I next have to “indulge” myself with an entirely new purses wardrobe.
Lo and behold, what a difference they make! Maybe I’ll use them for more than driving, like for vision, for instance. These are glasses I can definitely hide behind, so I’m hopeful no one will recognize me, and I can preserve the self-illusion of youthfulness a while longer.
Random Jewish Thoughts 