My Life as a Myope

Life seen through thick lenses

I am not exactly sure  when my vision started to deteriorate however I remember squinting at the television as being a very young boy. That didn’t seem so problematic in my experience. I was convinced that every kid in class must be within five feet from the chalkboard as a way to read what was written there. I assume I was missing many of the world mainly because it passed outside of my focus, but I was just like the hard-of-hearing octogenarian who isn’t bothered by the garage band practicing across the street.

It had been from the third grade that this awful news came. “Ma’am, your little Adam has eyesight problems and requires glasses.”

I had been mortified. There had been 2 kinds of people on earth. The ones that could see… and me. There could be some chic associated with the bespectacled look nowadays, however, not while I used to be a young child. Eyeglasses belonged on four-eyed, nerdy, loser, picked last in P.E. misfits that may be pitied by others. My nine-year-old ego could not accept that now i must abandon my my sports and cool friends to take my place with one of many children who did crossword puzzles during recess and can name every element for the periodic table.

Bad vision…

was going to need to be my secret, therefore i went undercover. Corrective lenses didn’t have place in living with this captain with the crew, life of the party, barrel of monkeys, who just happened to be every third grade girl’s dream. I learned adaptive skills quickly. If I really felt I may need to be aware what was written on the board, my pencil would suddenly need sharpening and so i might get a closer inspection while i passed. If a person called to me and waved from the distance, I’d personally smile and wave back a greeting. Everyone outside of my visual range became “Bud.” “Hey, how ya doin’ Bud!” I memorized street names.

My coping efforts relaxed somewhat in senior high school, due to the use of contact lenses. They changed my life in magical ways, however i still suffered many misadventures  on the way. One time i used a contact lens solution that contained a chemical I’m apparently allergic to. I had been on a date when my eyes teared up and I couldn’t open them. Just after my embarrassment had reached full bloom, my date drove me home in my car. I don’t remember an additional date with that girl. My contacts would sometimes become tiny projectiles that might pop from my eyes arbitrary times. Mine were hard contacts and quite often only the blink of an eye would dislodge one and send me crawling towards the floor in pursuit.

As anadult my vision continued in a very gradual decline. Have you ever asked a question that you didn’t want answered? After an eye exam, my optometrist would usually just scribble my new prescription on a piece of paper. However, one time I thought to inquire about him what my uncorrected vision would measure. I was told that without the corrective lenses my vision was approximately 20/800. Translated which means I must be within twenty feet of a thing that a normally sighted person often see from nearly three football fields away. My spouse likes to tell the stories of me walking into doors in the evening or holding the alarm clock within six inches of my face as a way to begin to see the time (yes, she’s got a mean streak).

I considered eye laser treatment but had abrother-in-law that endured a miserable exposure to LASIK. It was not until my research for help led me to the natural ways of vision correction that we will explore here that I surely could gradually set aside the glasses to see the world as our eyes were designed to view it.

Get more info at www.vision-repair.com.