Weary from writing is a good weary.
Out of the blue, I decided to start
writing the book I’ve thought
about forever. It went very well,
considering. I was weary before I
started, but that wasn’t it. I’m often
over tired because sleep eludes me
or is disrupted by issues of my age.
But that wasn’t it either. My vision
has been getting worse. At first,
just a little blurry here and there.
So, the “considering” in this case is
that my close and mid-range sight
sunk, failed, can’t focus. It seems
distance is okay, but reading or
working on the computer is a
nightmare. Everything has shadows.
Blurry. More shadows. More blurry.
As I write this I can barely make it
out. More like a ghost on the page.
I finally realized it wasn’t all the
things I thought it was. My vision
went down the tubes! Not over a
period of time, but quickly, so it
seemed to me. At first I thought it
was my new Mac and iPhone SE.
If smaller is better I wasn’t getting
it! I called for an eye exam. Monday
at a different place. “So, doctor,
what caused this?” He simply smiled,
“You’re older.” Good session. He
did a great job. Next, I went to the
optical department. There was a
line. Then I saw the take-a-number
machine on the other end of the
counter. I lunged at it and grabbed
a number. H53. While 51 and 52
were taken care of I quickly went
once around the small area to
pick out a frame. One caught my
eye in the first case I looked at. But
I walked all the way around and
returned to the first frame I liked.
It was a Spy frame in matte black.
Then I heard it, “53?” Her first
question after a little discussion
and I gave her my paperwork was,
“Did you pick out a frame?” “Yes,
one of the Spy frames.” I started to
point, but she moved quicker than
my finger and walked right to them.
There were two. She picked the one
that would fit my big head. I was
going with retro black plastic. No
more metal or partial metal frames
for me. The ones I’ve worn for the
last two years have been a disaster
and needed repair too many times
Not the lenses; the frame for the
plastic cord under each lens.
And the metal would lift, move, and
twist from what I don’t know. I’m
gentle with eyeglasses. Been wearing
them since 8th Grade. When I was in
the Army in Germany there were
alerts. We’d deploy to the field. In
Winter sleeping in the woods under
my tent shelter half. Every night, the
last thing I did before getting in my
sleeping bag was to put my glasses in
a metal reinforced case, stick it in one
of my boots before I put them on the
top of my waterproof bag holding
the clothes I wore that day, ready for
morning. Ready for earlier if need be.
Anyway, the good news is I paid half
of what I had to pay last time. Great
deal and better quality. Works for me.
So, here I am typing this and you can
read it better than I can! I should get
a text in seven to ten days letting me
know they are ready. I don’t have
vision insurance but the price was
right, as they say. I can’t wait!
There was more good news. Almost
forgot. The doc was doing a cataract
check, and said, “My, my, what have
you done? How did you do this?” My
response was simply, “Huh?” He smiled
and told me, “You have the cataracts of
a six-year-old!” Oddly, I’m glad that this
time there is something I don’t have or
don’t have much of. God is so good.
Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)
I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)