Despite a few more “floaters” in my natural viewfinder, I still have healthy eyes. So said my optometrist.
I’ve gone to his office long enough that the staff recognizes my condition.
“We won’t make you take out your contacts yet,” the senior office assistant said, smiling, when I arrived. “Don’t want to have you trip and fall in the waiting room.”
A newer assistant, looking incredulous, said, “Deanna’s more nearsighted than I am?”
“Oh, yes. Look at her chart.”
The newer assistant whistled.
Later, with contacts removed just prior to my turn in the doctor’s chair, I noted how prominent my nose is in such situations. It was the only thing vaguely in focus. Colored blobs and sounds made up the room around me. No visual details. Pretending to make facial contact with passers-by, I sat, grateful that circumstances allow me most of the time to see. I also get to be seen by others without my quarter-inch-thick lenses.
My optometrist tells me things may change. Myopic curvatures such as mine put great strain on the back of the eye. Inner flashing lights or a black, descending curtain may trouble me in days to come. Oh, joy. Another prospect of aging I rarely choose to think about.
A friend of mine, Tiffany, is completely blind; a young woman who does very well, thank you. Tiffany’s knowledge of getting around in a sighted world comforts me. She’s never had it easy, but she doesn’t sit home moping. I’ll be sure to tap her sources if I ever need a talking computer, watch or cell phone.
For today, I’ll list a few things I appreciate seeing as long as I can:
· Written words
· A rainbow and its faint twin
· Distant, snow-frosted mountains
· My hubby’s face relaxed in sleep
· Pastel-clouded dawns
· My children, tall and strong