Seen and Heard
And now…a repost of an oldie (from November 2010) but a goodie….with some updates….
What is it about crossing the terminator (aka “twilight zone”) between 39 and 40 that causes you to start losing your senses? I don’t mean “lose your mind,” necessarily, but to actually lose your senses. As in your eyes. Your peepers. Your windows to the soul.
All my life I had been told by folks with eye charts that I possessed better than perfect vision; any better and I’d have Clark Kent’s ability to see through solid objects. (I kid, I kid–but that didn’t stop me from wishing it in junior high. Oh, my.) At the height of my powers I could read a newspaper from across a room–and I don’t just mean the headlines and sub-headers. I could read the stories themselves from ten feet away. My “long vision” was exceptional, too. I could see a Smokey speed trap from what seemed miles away.
But all that changed shortly after my fortieth birthday party. Everything got a little blurry. Then a lot blurry. A trip to the eye doctor revealed the truth:
Hyperopia.
Some hangover, eh? I started to have a tough time reading anything up close smaller than a 12 point font size. Within a couple of years, my arms weren’t long enough to make reading my phone screen any easier. I got headaches…and my first pair of reading glasses.
That helped. but man, what an inconvenience. I’ve already lost the expensive pair, and now I’ve misplaced the cheap magnifying readers from the drugstore. I probably have them close by and just can’t see the damn things.
The eye doc says I’m farsighted, and no eye surgery will fix it. Great. And my “long vision” isn’t spectacular anymore, either. I could barely read the headlines from ten feet away now; if there were any newspapers left, that is.
To add insult to injury, my hearing is going.
“I beg your pardon,” would be a lovely macro to build into my brain, as I say it about five times a day. Double that if I’m at a cocktail party, busy restaurant or sporting event. I was told at age 16 that I was losing my hearing in my left ear–my family has a genetic disorder that I apparently inherited. I’ve managed okay up until now, but perhaps the progressive hearing loss seems more acute when I cannot see or hear well at the same time.
Ironically, I feel better physically than I ever have. Sure, more aches and pains and all, but I feel pretty good most of the time. I have most of my hair, too–though I think it’s established a beachhead in my failing ears.
Anyway, this reminds me of being a smart-aleck teen, making fun of my Dad when he got bifocals around age forty. He look at me over the glasses and said “Keep it up. It will happen to you, too.”
I did, and it did, Dad. You were right.
My two three-year-old daughter doesn’t laugh at my “glassies,” though I’m sure she’ll find something else to poke fun at when she gets to the smartalecky age.
Won’t matter though. I’ll just say “I beg your pardon?”
