I watched while Mr. Ginley took his eye test yesterday, reciting line after line of jumbled alphabet letters and numbers. The giant robo glasses were poised before his eyeballs, as the doctor shifted one lens, then another and repeated, "Better or worse?"
Anyone who has been to the eye doctor knows the drill well.
Fun fact: If you are nearsighted, your distance eyesight improves as you grow older. The doctor told Mr. Ginley that he just has to live to 105, and his vision will be 20/20.
Good to know.
I am well versed in the various eye tests and whatnot that are performed at the ophthalmologist's office. Over the years, the technology, as one would expect, has become amazing. For example, there is a machine that can plot my optic nerve, so they know if there has been any change since the last time I was there. (I am prone to glaucoma, although, thankfully, there is no sign of it yet.)
One thing that has not changed is the drops. Which is part of the reason I was driving Mr. Ginley to the eyedoc yesterday. With pupils that enlarged to take over his irises, he was in no condition to drive. (This did not preclude us, however, from visiting the book store located across the street.)
Those of us of a certain generation who can be classified as having "four eyes" remember well the first pair of glasses.
For Mr. Ginley, it was an epiphany. He read street signs all the way home, until his dad told him to shut up. He asked his dad if the signs had always been there, because he'd never seen them before.
I was 11 when I got my first pair of glasses. I couldn't see the blackboard. After I got them, I still couldn't see the blackboard, because I refused to wear them. My specs lived in the little silver and black case I hid in my desk. I would surreptitiously pull them out when I absolutely had to. Most of the time, I faked it. The glasses were a brown tortoise shell that made me look like a total geek.
It wasn't until my mom took me to the eye doctor four years later (and the guy yelled at me and accused me of ruining my eyesight), that I finally agreed to wear glasses all the time. By then, the prescription was so strong, it felt like I could see for miles. The sidewalk looked so clear, I had trouble walking until I got used to my new specs. I didn't mind them, because they were wire frames, just like John Lennon's. They didn't overpower my face, they were actually a bit of okay.
For a time in the early 80's, I wore contact lenses. I very much liked the way they looked and the fact that my peripheral vision kicked ass. But my eyes got so dry, if I didn't get home from work by 6:00 to take them out, they drove me nuts. After awhile, I gave up and went back to glasses.
These days, I'm waiting for the cataracts to grow. I've been assured that post-surgery, I'll have fabulous vision again. I may not need to wear glasses all the time.
We'll see.
In the meantime, I'm thankful to live in an age when eyeglasses are possible. If I were in a time machine, I'd go back and slap that vane youngster upside the head and tell her no one cares about her stupid glasses, just put them on and get on with life. Too many calories wasted over something stupid.
These days, eyeglasses are fashionable. The dark frames we hated as kids are very much in style. The doctor told us yesterday that some kids are actually disappointed that their vision doesn't require them to wear glasses.
Who would've seen that coming?
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