I should have visited more often. I say the same for the dentist, or even my parents. But I can still…see. My eyes have shifted so much it’s like they grew up Democratic but now believe January 6th was a non-violent, self-guided tour. I didn’t read “real good” anyway, but now I despise it.
The optometrist suggested Lasik. They hold your eyes open like the Sandra Bullock movie Birdbox, shooting lasers and tattooing your pupils. This should be cheaper than refilling contacts for two decades. Maybe. Best case 20/10 vision for 20 years. That’s it. Worst case…never seeing ever again! Hard NO.
Second effort. New Glasses. She asked if I wanted to keep one eye the same and make [the other] great again, assuring me “it will adjust, self correct, and balance in time.” It‘s an interesting idea, but which eye do you choose to be Arnold Schwarzenegger and the other Danny DeVito from Twins? If I wear the wrong contact on the wrong eye, will it make that eye jealous? What if the better eye gets poked…do I have to wear a patch like Jack, from the Raider logo, wishing it was both eyes so I wouldn’t have to witness another miserable season? Would my perspective and values be compromised?
After two weeks, my eyes hadn’t adjusted and the 30 day satisfaction window was closing. It was so bad, I was watching foreign films without the subtitles. Imagine swallowing your pride, seeing the doctor, thinking everything is going to be better, only to be left wondering if they gave me the placebo pair of glasses. I was either reading with the glasses on top of my head or holding the screen so close, it looked like I was trying to intimidate it.
Making matters worse (and likely my eyes), I still had a month of contacts and continued wearing them while adjusting to the new glasses. You know, the contacts with a prescription so bad I got my eyes checked in the first place? It’s like going back with your ex. Why do we do it? Is it familiar? Need to feel like you got your money’s worth? Just really want to feel sad?
Third effort. The next LensCrafters technician figured out the problem: the bifocal portion was missing. Apparently they never charged me for ‘progressives’, the hip bifocal. It was like getting the magician’s hat with no rabbit. Another pair of glasses and another two weeks to feel secretly old.
Even if I don’t have great vision, I can still see who I am. I don’t always see what I want to see, and sometimes I can’t see the truth. And nobody ever sees themselves as the villain in their own story. Perception isn’t always reality. What I see in the mirror isn’t what others see.
My brother and I are 10 months apart. I was slightly older and…forgotten. He was cuter and…a baby. Still today, I don’t feel seen: a car cuts me off, a swipe left, overlooked for the job. But I can’t cry over the past because it’s shaped my perspective. Twenty-nine GMs drafted 261 players before they reached Brock Purdy, one of the quarterbacks in this year’s Super Bowl. Mike Piazza was the last pick in the 50th round in the MLB. He’s now a Hall of Famer. We don’t always the foresight even when expected to see the future.
I recently had a ‘Billy Joel’ moment and started reflecting on what I’ve seen and what my parents and grandparents saw. Segregation. The Beatles. World Wars. Poverty. They had Forrest Gump moments. I got cellphones, internet, and same-sex marriage. I can never truly understand how monumental Bruce Lee and Jackie Robinson were because I never experienced life before their impact.
That 30 day satisfaction window has closed, and I’m still trying to smell what I’m reading. As much as I want my eyes to see great again…maybe I’ll just enlarge the font on my phone.