I’m always accused of being a hypochondriac, which may have some validity. But I assure you I wouldn’t run around huffing about something that someone else hadn’t planted in my brain first.
It was time for my annual visit to the eye doctor. Each year since the 8th grade, the vision in my right eye has progressively gotten worse. It’s worse than both of my parent’s vision (possibly combined). I’m a bat in the mornings, stumbling around with a perpetual nightmare that the man next to me might not actually be my husband.
I visited my local LensCrafters and went through the normal charade: peripheral vision, corneal photographs, read the letters type stuff. She asked if I was having any issues. Nope. Same stuff as long as I can remember. Can’t see with both of my eyes in the morning when looking at my phone, have to favor an eye. I assumed it normal.
She pulled out more tests, and after a series of tests, declared that I had strabismus. “A lazy eye?!” I shouted back. It was true. It was like learning that everyone else saw color and I saw black and white. I’ve just learned that no, not everyone takes a few seconds to focus when looking at an object, no, not everyone has to pick and eye to look at when getting close to their spouse. Not everyone, when hungry, sees two of everything. Not everyone, when running, has to look at the floor to avoid the muddied magic eye up ahead.
It seems one eye is slow, if you will. One eye, when behind the black plastic paddle, is staring into the abyss. When the paddle is moved to cover the other eye, it zips back into place. I waited as the Dr. paraded two of the front desk ladies in to witness. “This is so crazy,” she said, “I haven’t seen this in someone under 10 in ages.” I think it’s good to note I was in the Lenscrafters inside of a mall.
She immediately jumped to surgery and began writing up specialists. But wait, I insisted, where would an incision be? This was, after all, a vanity issue. There wasn’t an incision; they simply remove your eyeball, tighten the muscles, and voila. Sick.
But wait, I insisted, surely there is another solution. No one has ever mentioned to me that they have seen my lazy eye. What if I just cope? I’m informed that over time, my slow eye may drift further into space. This was, after all, a vanity issue.
But wait, I insisted, surely there is a non-surgical fix? An eye patch.
This was, after all, a vanity issue.