I see

I was dreading my opticians appointment dear internets.

I hate not being able to see.  Really hate it.  Bordering on paranoia.  If I weren’t such a gigantic wuss I would definitely have saved up and gone for laser eye surgery by now, but I can’t like it.  The thought makes my stomach go wibble.  And that’s a dangerous thing in itself.

This hating having eye tests is one of the reasons I don’t do it very often, and why it has now come back to bite me on the behind.  So this morning I was apprehensive and eager both, which was an unpleasant experience which smacked far too much of having a baby for my liking.

My optician was very reassuring. A lovely lady who was calm, collected and thorough. It took over an hour to do, which considering you’re in and out of Vision Express in about twenty five minutes was fairly amazing. 

The good news is that contrary to my belief, my prescription has changed so little that she considers it would be a gigantic waste of money to get new glasses.  This is, in a way, awesome, as it means that all the squinting I have done at the internets over the past three years has had no lasting ill effects. Well, to my eyes anyway.  Last time I went they were also the same, which means that my prescription has now been stable for nearly ten years.  There was a point where it deteriorated quite rapidly and which probably instilled my fear of waking up blind.  So it is good to know that I am alright.  Not only that but my eyes are healthy.  Positively glowing apparently.

The reason that I have been struggling with my glasses is simple.  Well it is when a non hysterical, professional optician tells you about it anyway.  Mostly I wear contacts.  They snuggle round the eyeball and track with me when I move my eyes around, thus meaning that my vision is deep and crisp and even all the time.  My glasses however, do not do that.  The only time they work perfectly are when I am staring straight ahead.  Usually I wear my glasses at home, in bed, when I am reading, consequently I only use them to look straight ahead.  Or I did, until over a week ago when I branched out into wearing them all the time and swivelling my eyes about like billio.  So I cannot see properly to the sides and up and down, where I usually have good vision, but this is normal for glasses.  Phew.  Still bloody annoying though.

The bad news is that new gas, permeable lenses will take over a week to come here, and I will probably have to go back for several fittings.  This means that I could leave Canada without properly fitting contact lenses.  She, quite rightly, doesn’t want to take that risk.  So she trialled me with some new soft lenses designed for people like me, who have astigmatism.  They have to cling to your eye in a certain way which she described to me, but which is too boring for me to go into here.  Anyway, the ones she tried didn’t want to cling to my eye in that way and it was rather unnerving and a bit like being at sea.  So she has sent away for some new ones to try.  They might come in before everything shuts for Easter. They might not.  I am praying they do.  If they do, and they fit and don’t make me feel like I am in a force ten swell, she will give them to me for free, so that I have lenses to wear for the month I am here until I get home, and can see my own optician for my gas permeable ones again.

Yay.

I left the opticians and burst into tears on the path outside.  I am doing a lot of crying at the moment.  I think it’s a release of tension thing in general, and relief at not going blind yet in particular.

I am still hating my glasses.  I just can’t reconcile myself to them. They are uncomfortable and steam up all the time, and I can’t read road signs properly and I just can’t wait to be back with lenses again. 

And at the moment I am going through a huge self-loathing thing. I hate my hair. I hate my face. I hate my skin, my glasses, my shape and everything about myself. It is rather like being a teenager all over again.  I get dressed in the mornings without looking at myself in the mirror and when I had to have my photograph taken today so that we could have a month long pass for the local swimming pool I cried again because I looked like a cross between the Pilsbury Dough Boy and someone’s aged aunt Hilda. 

Really I do not look any different than normal.  I know that.  Apart from the glasses.  But I feel different.  And it sucks. It shall pass.  And it is saving me a fortune in clothes, as I cannot bear the thought of being in a state of partial undress anywhere except my own house, so changing rooms are definitely out. 

My initial urge is to rush out and get a radical new hairstyle ,etc, etc, etc.  I am resisting.  This way lies madness. It is never a good plan to do a radical makeover when one is plunged into despair. That’s how come I let some trainee hair dresser cut all my hair off in a circus tent in 1989, and I still bear the mental scars.

I am sure it will all be better if I could just get these lenses and they work. So please dear internets. Pray for me.

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