Thursday, August 22, 2013

Progressive, My Hind Leg

Yesterday heralded one of those milestones no woman of a certain age likes to reach: bifocals, or as they are euphemistically called now, "progressive lenses".  Just exactly what progress are we talking about here? Toward blindness? The grave? One shudders to think.

Glasses are pretty much obscenely expensive to begin with, but progressive lenses require the sacrifice of a kidney. What I've seen so far ranges between about $150 to upwards of $500 just for the lenses, depending on a number of factors. Jeez. It's pricey to lose one's eyesight. It's not as if I didn't know this- I'm a Lion, and we raise money to provide glasses assistance- but good grief.

Not that this was the worst of it: in addition to the changes in my prescription, the optometrist had one other not-so-hot piece of news. I have glaucoma.

Irony: I'm not a diabetic. My mother is diabetic. My sister is diabetic. I. am. not, and yet, *I* have glaucoma.

I am not amused.

One of my greatest fears has always been that of going blind. The eyes that are my best physical feature have not worked exactly right since I was twelve, and now...

I walked out with the prescription for my contact lenses (with a recommendation for stronger reading glasses for evening and work), one for my "progressive lens" glasses, and, well, two prescriptions for special eye drops with a couple of new, different ones for the glaucoma to follow next month after I see the optometrist again.

Crap. Just, crap. Not too happy, but what can I do? Meanwhile back at the ranch, I am plotting for some pretty kick-ass reading glasses because I'm not going down without a fight.

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