Tag Archives: glasses

Dreaming for the glory of glasses

Alright eyes, we got this. Don’t let me down, eyes. This year is our year. Got it. Alright, let’s DO this.

That was the pep talk my lovely, grey eyes got yesterday morning all through breakfast, all through transit, all through the rainy walk, and every step up the five flights of stairs to my opthalmologist’s office.

Yesterday was my annual eye appointment.


This appointment I dream of for 365 days, hoping, praying, begging for my eyes to finally falter in the presence of my opthalmologist.

I am obsessed with glasses, been so ever since one of my elementary school besties showed up to class in an oversized pair of pink specs. I loved them! I had to have them!

When I was diagnosed with Dear Diabetes shortly after and told my diabetic eyes could be a thing of concern, I swear to you that was one of the happiest days of my life. My parents were near tears and I’m practically jumping for joy. (I was nine, what can I say, glass half full girl!)


Friends know if they wear glasses, I’ll be trying them. I mean seriously, how could this face NOT be granted the glory of glasses???

But noooooo, year after year, blinding appointment after blinding appointment, they keep regaling the perfection of my eyes, exclaiming they’re getting better with age, no diabetic spots, and that once, majorly noticeable wandering eye, it’s majorly dissipated.

They wait for me to smile, but instead get a grimace.

I. Want. Glasses.


These eyes NEED glasses!

So yesterday, I’m sitting in the office noticing every seat filled with someone in glasses. Could this be my year, I thought. Surely, everyone in glasses is a sign, I thought. I am getting older, after all. Eyes fail with age, right? Right???

My eyes are dilated. The room starts to blur. One word fills my head over and over: Please. Please. Please. Please. Pleeeeeeeeeeease.

I’m in the office. I see an information placard on age-related macular degeneration. Symptoms include yellow-white deposits that mess with photoreceptors causing impaired vision.



I’ve been experiencing major eye irritation for months. Lots of thin eye goop that causes a burning sensation. I thought it was the circulating dust, or allergies, but maybe it’s AMD.

Squinting my eyes, I put my face right close to the sign, practically nose touching it, and read further.

Oh crud.

This is NOT good.

Abnormal blood vessels growing in my macula!

Leaking blood and other fluids!

Complete vision loss!

Oh crud! Oh crud! Oh crud!


Found this pic on How the Light Gets In blog. The whole post had me giggling…I could totally relate!

I want glasses. I don’t want diseased eyes.

My specialist walks in, sticks a blinding light through my dead eyes. Looking good, she says.

Erm, I stutter.

Yes??? she waits.

Erm, you don’t see leaking blood?

Noooo??? she queries.

I start talking a mile a minute, telling her about the burning sensation in my eyes, how they get real itchy, and painful, how I’m sticking my fingers in there trying to get what’s causing the pain out practically every minute, and that I think it might be age-related macular degeneration, and that my eyes are gonna fall out, all the while my stomach fluttering with opposing excitement and fear. Hoorah to glasses. Eek to dead eyes.

She pauses. I swear to stop from bursting out laughing. (Note: she knows my great desire for glasses). You have dry eyes, she said. That’s all. They’re not dying. They’re atypical diabetic eyes. She hands me a sample of gel drops.

No glasses for you!

Once again spurned by damn perfect eyesight.



Pristine disappointment

Dammit! Perfect eyes again 😦

Every year I go to the eye specialist hoping, praying, begging that this will be the year she gives me a prescription, but nooooo, I get the nasty eye drops, I look like I’m stoned for the better part of a day with my pupils so super dilated, I get my eye pressure taken, which by the way so not fun, I get the blinding light shone directly into my cornea, and all I ask in return, is to be told, you need glasses. And every year, the specialist keeps coming at me with “Pristine eyes” “No diabetes damage here” “So great to see you” I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THOSE WORDS!!!

For fear of being offed by every sight deficient person in the world, I should probably elaborate here. I don’t want to be blind, I just want the need for glasses. For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to wear glasses. My sister was the lucky one in our family (although she never truly appreciated her luck; repeatedly burying her glasses in the park near the house so she wouldn’t have to wear them) and I used to sit in front of the mirror for what seemed like hours with her glasses on; my friends in Grade school with glasses, I used to pluck them off their heads and stick ’em on mine every opportunity I got; and when Mario and I got together, I was in near heaven when I learned of his blurry vision – finally, I had real reason to go into the eye shops and try on every pair they had! What can I say, I look good in glasses, and really, you can’t deny good fashion 😉

And today, I thought I was so close to that dream finally becoming a reality. In the dark room, with my chin planted on the Clockwork Orange like contraption and my head strapped in, the specialist announced I was still looking good at 20 something vision (I can’t remember what number she gave me). When I asked what that meant, she told me a slight near sight. And ohmygawd, my head jerked back, my eyes grew wide, my smile erupted. “Do I need glasses,” I asked, giddy as a schoolgirl mounting her first pony. No, she said. We might as well just call my specialist Little Miss Negative Nelly. Despite seeing my excitement, despite knowing that with one mere second, a flick of her pen really, she could make a girl’s dream come true, but noooooo she’s got to strike it down. Apparently it’s only a slight, slight, slight near sight, not worth a prescription, she told me. She didn’t care that I look good in glasses, didn’t care that I want glasses, didn’t care that I am being deprived in the fashion world, she just kept saying you don’t need them, kept telling me this is good news, most would kill for my eyes.

The feeling is mutual – I’d kill for theirs!

In other news… further proof that stubborness is genetic, especially in my family: my great nephew. After 40 hours in labour – 40 HOURS!!! – my super amazing, tough as nails niece finally delivered The Great One last night. Apparently, he was rather comfy in his mama’s belly 😀