Eye Spy

I got new glasses yesterday.

Not being one to waste money, I made sure that I used up all my entitlements from our private health insurance and updated my specs before the calendar year expired.

Seems I wasn’t alone in my thinking either, as the local optometrists were doing a roaring trade in eye exams and lens manufacturing come December 31.

Armed with horror stories about how everything falls apart once one hits 40 (this year, ye gods), and since there’s a fairly hefty family history of vision troubles and glaucoma, I’m keeping a close eye, so to speak, on my sight. Besides, when one has to wear glasses for whatever reason, it’s good to make sure they match the rest of your wardrobe. My sister has needed to wear them since the age of 3, so she has a massive collection of specs in every shade and size. She could just about open her own store (eBay, anyone?)!

Now, whoever thought shoes and handbags were the only accessories that changed with the season should take a moment to recall some of the styles that have made a spectacle of themselves over the years… like the cat-eye specs of the 50s and 60s, police or porn star sunnies of the 70s (think officer Poncherello from ‘CHiPs’), granny glasses of the 80s (when everything was big), and Ray-Bans of the 90s. Just like the rest of your outfit, it’s funny how these things come back into style; if you need it simply whack in an updated prescription lens and you’re back in fashion just like that! (Though, personally speaking, I cannot think of a time or place where it’s ever appropriate to adorn one’s eyes with coke-bottle lenses. Oh John Lennon, you have a lot to answer for…)

Anyway, the current thinking for eye glasses at least is rectangular frames (mind you, those big round blowfly-eyes for sunnies are also being seen this season). I wonder how many of us sporting the new style would think twice if we knew they were first seen on the faces of the unfashionable way back in the 1800s? And only on those who had given up hope of making it through a social occasion without falling flat on their faces. Nooooo, once upon a time, you didn’t dare wear spectacles unless you were ready to publicly embrace old age, or otherwise totally incompetent without them. Even then there was no choice of styles like there is these days; whatever the salesman had on hand, went on your face.

Well I lined up for my annual eye exam with some trepidation. I don’t know about you, but when it comes to eyesight or hearing tests, I’m always worried that I’ll ‘fail’ … not see the correct letter or hear that little ‘ping’ which means that particular sense is dwindling, and it’s all downhill from here. It’s also rather weird when they add anaesthetic or dilating drops to the equation and one gets the sense of not being totally connected to and therefore in control of the little orbs in your eye-socket. (Mind you, it’s a good excuse to do a little shopping afterwards, since the recommendation is not to drive until the effects wear off.)

I was especially worried this time ‘round when the optometrist said there was a discrepancy in the pressure of my eyes, and I needed to attend another appointment for a more intense Visual Field Test. Thoughts of glaucoma and loss of peripheral vision crossed my mind and I gladly accepted a time just a few days away, as opposed to after the holiday season. When it comes to vision, you don’t want just your hindsight to be 20/20.

So there I was, perched on a tiny little stool obviously designed for people without the hereditary butt size the women of our family share, leaning forward with my chin and forehead resting on a decidedly uncomfortable plastic bar, wearing an eye patch that Long John Silver would be proud of. The room is darkened and soundproofed to avoid distractions, and you’re not even allowed to speak during the test, as the very act of chatting makes your eyeballs move around and can affect the result. Who knew?

For those who’ve never had the pleasure: you have to stare straight ahead at the centre of this concave apparatus (a bit like your rooftop satellite dish), while at irregular intervals a little light randomly appears around the dish with varying intensity in its brightness; the idea is you press a buzzer held in your hand whenever you see the light and the computer takes note. Well, after a while of staring wide-eyed with an overwhelming fear of blinking lest you miss a light spot and fail the test, your uncovered eye starts to water, you end up imagining things and merrily start pressing on the buzzer in the notion that you’ve got to be right at least some of the time.

After about 20 minutes (and a switch of the eye patch) the technician tallies up your results (i.e. how many times you get a correct ‘hit’ on the target) and compares them to data from other patients of your age.

I was so happy when he told me I was smack-bang in the normal range of my peers, I could’ve kissed the guy. Except my eyesight is not so poor I could ignore that he didn’t appeal to my senses. So I escaped with only needing a new pair in the same prescription as before, and got to pick from some funky new frames in my favourite colours.

Trying them on, I was certain I’d spent my health fund dollars well. Until I stepped outside the store and in the process of getting used to the new glasses, I found I was walking a little wonkily like I’d just hopped off a boat or something, and had to physically prevent myself tapping a foot in front of me before deciding it was a safe place to go- and making a real spectacle of myself in the process.

I knew I had well and truly overstepped the mark when I commented to my Beloved that the new prescription sunnies I’d chosen (complete with polarized lenses) made everything look like it was in 3D.

(I’ll let you think about it for a minute… cue the elevator muzak… )

Yes, though my eyes may be ok for my age, I’m really starting to wonder about my mind…


Jx
©2010

For more information about Glaucoma, check out the Glaucoma Research Foundation, or talk to your local optometrist.