Vision

Way back in the second grade, when my teacher realized I couldn't see the blackboard from my desk (yes, we used chalk way back then...) my Mom took me to the eye doctor and I was blessed with a pair of tortoise, stop-sign shaped frames. They were swell. At 13 I petitioned for and got contacts, 20 years later I had Lasik and am now getting ready for my second round of Lasik. The eyes, like other body parts, let you down after a certain age. If you read this blog, you know I had a Lasik appointment with an eye doctor about 6 months ago that didn't go so well. He told me not to bother, that I was too old and then proceeded to gossip about people we have in common. And, even though his subject was someone I adore blogging about, I wouldn't bite. I like my gossip anonymous. When I got my back-up plan glasses, the prescription was wrong, but he and his staff didn't believe me when I told them I couldn't see through them. They made me keep them for a month before they would actually look at them to see that, whoopsy, the doctor transposed a measurement or two and, what do you know, I was telling the truth! Now I have found a doctor with references and a big, shiny eye center who is very nice, does not gossip, and will happily perform Lasik on my older-than-dirt eyes. He is anal to the point of exhaustion, but I like that in an eye surgeon. In two weeks I will be out of glasses once more, and will hopefully be out of them until well into my golden years, which, depending on which doctor you ask are either way down the road or knocking on my door.