Ocular Irony

For the past ten days, I've been trying out something entirely new: contact lenses. Why? Well, you see, I hate reading glasses. With a passion. I hate everything about then. I hate that they make me look ugly. I hate that they make me look old. I hate that I can never find them because I put them on and take them off hundreds of times throughout the the course of the day. I hate that they always break. And why do they always break? Because I buy them at the dollar store. Why do I buy them at the dollar store? Because I hate them so much that I refuse to spend more than a dollar on them. Can you feel my frustration? Multiply it by 100 and you might be close.

I think it would be easier for people who have always needed eye correction to adjust to reading glasses. But when you've had perfect vision your whole life and then suddenly (!) when you are about 40 and for some stupid reason you can no longer see close up, it is over-the-top frustrating. Grrrr!!! So I've complained and complained about these dumb reading glasses until finally a friend who happens to be an optometrist politely suggested, "You know, instead of complaining for the next 50 years, you could do something about it. You could try contacts."

And that brings us to now. Ten days ago, I went for an eye checkup and told the doctor my tale of woe. He said we could try single-vision contacts although "they can be tricky." Gee, ya think? So here's the irony. Most people put in contact lenses in order to see better. Yep, after they put them in, they can actually see better than before. It's the exact opposite with me. I can see just fine before I put them in (other than up close, obviously). But once they're in, it's quite a struggle. The whole world is fuzzy. Single vision contacts are just that: single vision. I have a close-up lens in my left eye and a distance lens in my right eye. And I'm supposed to train my brain to essentially ignore the input from one eye or the other, depending on what I'm doing. I'm not allowed to shut one eye; I have to keep them both open all the time.

I think my brain is slow to train. Perhaps it involves the same part of the brain that is used to play games. Or cook. Or do crafts. I don't know. But I'll tell you this much for certain. I've been at this ten days now, and at night, when I finally get to take the things out and my crystal clear world reappears, it's a bit of euphoria. The other challenge is getting the things in my eyes in the first place. Goodness, the they are so tiny and so thin! I can barely see them. Remember, the whole reason I'm doing this is that I can't see up close. So I have to put the things in my eyes without really being able to see them. Lovely! Initially, it was taking me around 40 minutes to get both of them in. Today, it was more like 10, so I guess that part is improving. Still, since I never know for sure how long it will take, I can't really plan. Good thing I don't have to be anywhere in the morning. Gerald provides a great cheering section. "You're doing great. You'll be a pro in no time." Eli just makes fun of me. Of course both Gerald and Eli slip those little buggers into their eyes on the first try each day without any trouble, and they both have much smaller eyes than I do.

So in case you're thinking to yourselves, "Why is she doing this? Can it possibly be worth it?" The answer is unequivocally, yes! I will persevere. I will not give up. I am determined. Because despite all the struggles you just read about, I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE not wearing reading glasses. And though my distance vision is still pretty fuzzy, I am able to read things close up fairly well. No more putting on dumb, ugly glasses every time I want to send or receive a text message, or check a food label, or read an email. Nope! No more. And I'm still hoping my brain training will progress. Perhaps one day the world won't appear fuzzy. Until then, if you ever need an example of pure irony, feel welcome to share my story.