Because I was a dutiful fourth-grade student, my desk was at the back of the classroom – sixth seat in the row of six wooden desks with cast-iron legs. Bobby Arnold sat in front of me in the fifth seat. The troublemakers, of course, sat in the front of the room close to Mrs. Boomgarden’s desk and her ever-watchful eye.
One fateful morning, Mrs. Boomgarden had written our six-week math test on the blackboard at the front of the room. The test was hidden behind the pull-down map of the world and the pull-down map of the US; their cords swung ominously marking time as she paced in front of them giving the test directions. We had 30 minutes to copy and complete the problems. Blank papers and sharpened pencils lay on our desks; there would be no excuse to leave our seats during the test (and possibly sneak a peek at a neighbor’s work). She yanked the cords. With a crack like a starting gun, the maps snapped up and the test began!
After thirty minutes, Mrs. Boomgarden called “Time,” and started to collect the papers. When she came to me, she asked suspiciously, “Why aren’t you done?” And my reply of “I had to wait for Bobby to finish and give me his glasses so I could see the board” opened a new world! I was marched to the nurse’s office, told to read the eyechart (I could see the big “E”), and my parents were called.
The Eyes Have It
The snow was gusting across South Dakota as my father drove me to the ophthalmologist’s office, grumbling that this was a waste of time – he could see perfectly, my mother could see perfectly, and I always had my nose in a book, so obviously I could see perfectly. “No kid of mine needs glasses!” he fumed as we slipped and slid on the icy roads which made him even more grumpy. He sat in a chair behind me during the eye test, rigidly annoyed, but as the tests went on, he occasionally murmured incredulously, “You can’t see that?” And when the tests were over, his eyes teared as he said, “Why didn’t you tell us you need glasses!” Because I thought everyone saw the world through a gauzy curtain… except, of course, for Bobby Arnold!
And so began my visual odyssey – from the expensive clear plastic frames my father agreed to buy and that I hoped no one would notice, to my first pair of contact lens that were so big they covered most of my eyeballs, to losing one of my lens in the silk folds of my wedding dress as my father prepared to escort me down the aisle – and at last to yesterday’s astonishing result of having the first of my two cataracts removed!
Everyone assured me that my life would change. I was sure they were right, but I worried about HOW my life would change! I love my life! I play tennis, I write and edit franchise manuals, I take photos for wall art, I devour books – what if something goes wrong? One slip of the knife, of the laser, and my life would change irrevocably! But I reluctantly agreed … because I really needed to see better if I were going to continue playing tennis, writing, taking pictures, reading…
The surgery was painless, in and out of the office in a couple of hours, instructions received, eye-drops provided, and I went home to take a nap.
Rinso White! Rinso Bright! Happy Little Washday Song!
Yes, I am a Boomer. As a child I grew up listening to the radio with jolly commercial jingles.
“I’d walk a mile for a mild, mild Camel. They’re so mild, they suit me to a T’.”
“Double your pleasure, Double your fun, Doublemint, Doublemint, Doublemint Gum!”
And today I am living the Rinso commercial, complete with the before/after laundry detergent effect!
When I look out of my left eye with good vision provided by my contact lens, I see everything with a yellow, murky overtone caused by a cataract – the Before Rinso Look. When I look out of my new right eye, everything is dazzling and bright – like Rinso-washed laundry hanging on a clothesline in the sun!
The eyesight with the new lens is everything that everyone promised – clear, bright, and much better than the vision I was born with!
But the new brightness and improved vision did not come without a cost! I had been warned that I would suddenly be aware of dust bunnies lurking in corners, smudges on windows, and shocking facial wrinkles. Happily my house is cleaner than I thought and the once-creamy walls are still the gallery white I prefer. But then, I looked into the mirror … and instead of seeing a face with wrinkles softened by obscuring cataracts, I saw myself in a new light – literally!
Have a Good Day, Honey
No wonder salespeople tend to call me “Dear”, and strangers offer to lift my bag into the overhead compartment on a plane. Even though I can run around on the tennis court like the Energizer Bunny, I look really OLD! After I finished gasping at my reflection, I decided to face the facts; my mother had a ton of wrinkles, my grandmother had wrinkles, and my great-grandmother had wrinkles. No amount of Ponds Vanishing Cream was going to take mine away. Temporarily mitigate? Maybe. But genes are genes, after all.
Yet now I wonder – could there be future lens implants with facial softening software, like my phone app? Even if I couldn’t fool you IRL, at least I could go back to fooling myself!
Cyndee Perkins 