Thursday, December 19, 2019

The Joys of Aging, Part I

This time of year is generally spent in reflection, and I will get to that this year, even though I neglected it last year. But for today’s subject, I thought I would tackle the inevitable: getting older. This blog will be part of a seres of themes on it, and today’s topic is eyesight.

There’s an old adage about aging that says that the eyes are the first things to go.

I have finally accepted the fact that I have old eyes. You have no idea how painful it is to fully acknowledge that realization. First of all, I am myopic, which means I can not clearly see objects in a distance. That distance does not exceed the length of my arm.

I have known I needed eyeglasses since the 5th grade, and wore them steadily after 12th grade (hence the reason I have had a premature permanent frown line between my brows). Not being able to see distances is a way of life: I don’t feel comfortable getting out of bed without an extra set of eyes. Most nights, I just go straight to sleep in them.

So to now have to admit that I have the additional problem of not seeing text close up is a double strike. I haven’t gotten to the point of actually needing reading glasses yet, but I can no longer read in my trusty eyeglasses. Most of the time, they end up perched on my forehead (which often smudges them with oil) or under my chin when I’m deep into a read. But when it’s a quick read, I actually peak over the top of my glasses in much the way I used to watch my Aunt Resa do. I remember that I would laugh, wondering why she did that. Now I know Aunty, now I know.

Before this segues into a tribute to all the lessons learned from Aunty, which could be a separate post altogether, let’s stay on the topic of the eyes. The official scientific explanation for old eyes is that when people age, their eyes lose their elasticity. The official name for this condition is presbyopia, and believe it or not, this term literally means “aging eye,” so I’m not that far off when I say old eyes.

Sadly, what this means is that at some point I will have to get readers—-worse yet, the dreaded bifocals. I often half jokingly quip that I am only one step way from getting a seeing eye dog. Personally, I think it’s unfair that I won’t be able to see up close or far away without corrective actions. I might as well invest in those fancy beaded chains.

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