They’re Progressive Lenses

I was cleaning out my wallet today when I found a reminder card for an eye doctor’s appointment in mid-March. I made it a year ago, after the conclusion of what was probably one of the saddest moments in my adult life (exaggeration).

Glasses became a fixture in my life when I was about 5 years old. I probably didn’t need them at that age, but my best friend got a pair and I really, really wanted to have everything she had. Back at that time, glasses were large, round, and metal-framed. After I saw my best friend’s pair, I was determined to get a pair for myself.

I asked her what she felt like before she got glasses. Headaches from squinting were what got to her. Armed with that information, I sat down in front of the television with my parents and started squinting.

‘What does that say? Mom, I can’t see that very well.’

She didn’t buy it. Smart lady. But I wasn’t ready to give up.

I complained about headaches at school. I claimed I needed to move closer to the front in order to see the board. Not too long after that, the school contacted my parents to tell them they felt I needed to get to the eye doctor. At this point, my parents couldn’t refuse a visit to the eye doctor and I had succeeded!

I squinted and squirmed on that chair, excited to be like my best friend. I said I couldn’t see things that I probably could see if I wasn’t squinting to pretend I couldn’t see. By the end of the appointment, the doctor concluded that I had a slight problem seeing distances–nothing too serious, but if I was getting headaches, he would give me glasses to correct the issue.

I picked out my frames, (huge, metal, round…goofy looking). I wasn’t aware that I would walk out of the office without my new glasses. I guess I thought they could do everything right there. I was disappointed.

That was the start of a lifetime of decreasing vision and people asking me if I’m blind without my glasses on. When I go to the eye doctor’s now, I pray that she will say my vision hasn’t changed despite knowing I’m having more trouble seeing. I pray that I can just keep the frames and lenses I currently own and pay for only new contacts. That has never happened. Every single freaking time I go to that wretched place, the eye doctor proclaims my eyes are worse and I need a new prescription.

Also, to answer your question, I’m not blind without my glasses. When I take my glasses off, instead of the world going black, it just gets out of focus. It’s very, very out of focus, but I can still see outlines of things that aren’t too far away. Thanks for your concern.

Just under a year ago, in mid-March of 2013, I went to the eye doctor for the worst day of my adult life. I did not have insurance before then (from 2010 to 2013), so I knew I was way overdue for things. I had been wearing the same pair of contacts for over a year (I know! Sooo bad for the eyes!). I sat down, took all of the eyes tests, and discovered how much my eyes had changed over the previous 3 years.

After the exam part was completed, my doctor pulled her chair up over to me and broke the bad news that I could sense about 2 minutes into the exam.

‘Your eyes have changed a lot since your last prescription. I, honestly, don’t even want you to wear your old glasses anymore, but I know you need to. Never put those contacts in your eyes again.’
I nodded.
‘Here’s the thing, I think it would be best for you if you get progressive lenses.’ She paused. ‘Progressive lenses help you see far away, medium, and close up. So across a room, a computer screen, and a book.’
I pondered that over. ‘Wait, trifocals?!?’
‘No, they’re progressive lenses. There are no lines.’

She could try and call them whatever she wanted. At a ripe old age of 28, I was getting trifocals. I wanted to cry. Maybe this was my punishment for faking my first eye exam. I picked out frames and chose the right type of lenses for my shitty eyes. The receptionist ran my debit card for almost $600 with insurance. I wanted to be sad about how much they cost, but I couldn’t get over my trifocals disguised as progressives.

I called my mom. She told me horror stories of people who got progressive lenses and couldn’t adjust to them. I told people where I work and they told me horror stories. I felt the horror. I sat in the horror. I tried to laugh.

A week later, the office called me to pick up my new glasses. Despite the terrible horror stories I heard, I found them easy to adjust to and I could see again. My eyes stopped hurting and my headaches disappeared. I could see better driving at night.

Unfortunately, however, just under a year later, I’m starting to have trouble seeing again and am dreading that expensive eye doctor’s appointment coming up in two months where, despite my prayers, I know I will need new glasses again.

Walking on Egg Shells

My relationship with my dad has always been…strained. At least, for as long as I can remember, though from the stories I’ve been told, my dad really enjoyed spending time with me as a baby. My mom would say it was less to spend time to me and more to annoy her.

My dad worked the overnight shift when I was baby, which meant he would come home from work well after I was asleep. Apparently, he would sneak into my room and wake me up so he could hold me. This would lead to me crying and waking my mom. And so…it would ultimately irritate her. I like to think that, at least at one time, my dad sought out my company. That stopped when I started forming my own opinions.

My parents divorced when I was around 9 years old. My brother was 5. It didn’t damage us as much as some people claim divorce damages kids. What really damaged us was my dad’s displaced anger. He was mad at my mom for what happened between them and felt it necessary to take it out on us. So, more often than not, spending time with my dad consisted of walking on egg shells. And, we were bad at walking on egg shells.

Fast forward almost 2 decades and nothing has really changed. In fact, things got so bad between my dad and brother that my brother completely cut off contact with my dad. I tried, but due to his inability to show me love as a child, I constantly seek love and reassurance so I had to prove to myself that he could love me, (viscous cycle). Years of therapy helped me identify this–lucky me.

My dad moved down south 5 years ago and occasionally comes up here to work. Sometimes he makes time to meet me for lunch. During this visit, I was fortunate enough to receive an hour of his time. So, we got to our normal restaurant and talk casually as to avoid any points of tension. Relationships, football, work. He mentions his plans while he is here. Somehow he manages to see his friend several more times than he sees me; but, I remind myself that it’s not worth the fight to point this out.

Lunch takes 45 minutes. We have 20 minutes to kill before he has to leave for work. We leave the restaurant, which is located in a mall, to walk around. We’re not even 25 feet out of the restaurant when I am forced to participate in the most awkward experience of my life.

My aunt–my dad’s sister–comes strolling by on her way to the escalator. Unaware that my dad and his sister aren’t speaking, I greet her with a giant smile and hug. The tension between the two of them gets so thick I can’t move. She glares. He glares back. She looks away. I manage to stutter a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year before she walks away.

My dad laughs. And laughs more. “I knew she’d be here. She’s off of work and has no friends,” he says and then closes the door on the subject.

I still have no idea what my aunt did to deserve such treatment, but the insecure child in me who just wants appease my dad, reminded me of how difficult it is to walk on egg shells around my dad. Clearly, my aunt gave up trying.