Monday, September 1, 2008

The Joys and Frustrations of Seeing the World Through Blurry Eyes

"Bifocals effectively work the same way they have since they were invented by Benjamin Franklin. But as any of more than 40 million people in America who need bifocals know, they're a pain."—Nasser Peyghambarian

I thought growing older stole my eyesight. However, my twenty-something daughter-in-love claims her pregnancy made her go blind. Her friend told her that when she quits nursing my precious first granddaughter, her sight might return. Her beautiful blue eyes don clear contacts, mine struggle to find the right position on my bifocals to turn blurs into clear focus.

I makes me angry to stop, then search for my mislaid bifocals to catch the clasp on a necklace or to find a matching pair of pierced earrings or to find the numbers on my cellphone or to read a book.

I wish my car keys and bifocals quietly beeped when lost, "I'm over here. Please don't sit on me." After loosing or breaking 50 pairs of $1 glasses from the Dollar Store, I decided to invest in a good pair of glasses, thinking the $700 price tag would motivate me not to misplace them.


Menopause and estrogen loss is not kind to instant recall.

Instead of groping around to find my bifocals, I'm thankful that at least I can see them. When I was younger, I tried to make sense of our world. I saw issues in black and white.

Impatient. Rigid. Judgmental.

Over the years, my biases blurred to a kinder, gentler view.

Patient. Merciful. Forgiving.

Now I reserve my impatience for frustrating searches to locate my bifocals that have gone astray.

Hopefully, I won't cling to old-fashioned prejudices that make me a pain. I pray for spiritual insight to make up for my loss of physical sight.

1 comment:

Paulette Harris said...

Awww your blog is cute. I can relate to the subject. Try going up and down stairs in trifocals. It is a hoot as my grandmother used to say.
Grandchildren...way too fun, especially when I can now give "em"back when I am tired.
Try mixing a little progesterone with them thar hormones. A kick and a half, something like Tabasco sauce, at least that is what I found in my case.
I just keep feeling better and better, except for the old arthritis.
Not bad for a 58 year old lady who refuses to get old. I love being blond!
Hugs and Blessings to all.
Paulette L. Harris