Photo by Ms. Tina.
By 2009, I had been wearing single lens glasses for forty years. I never seriously imagined myself ever wearing bifocals. But that was the year I turned 47. I have since learned that when people reach their forties, they usually acquire presbyopia, age-related eye trouble that often requires the use of bifocals.I started seeing warning signs, which I chose to misinterpret. If I read small print for too long, I was getting headaches. I was asking my children to read the small print on medicine bottles. And I was increasing the font size on the computer.
I didn't address the underlying problem until I was asked to review a reference book that contained a number of charts and tables that used 6 point font. No matter how I adjusted the light and the distance, I couldn't read the text. Finally, I went to the optometrist, thinking I would just get a minor adjustment to my standard glasses.
Nope. The optometrist informed me, “You need bifocals.” Yikes! I was imagining large-framed glasses with thick lenses that would magnify my eyes to grotesque proportions. I wasn't emotionally ready to make the switch. However, my identity as an avid reader was stronger than my identity as a fashionable women—by a long shot—so I ordered new bifocal lenses.
The assault to my ego was mild compared to the assault to my senses. Oh, the vertigo! Yes, I could read the small print of that reference book with ease. However, walking, using the stairs and driving were incredibly challenging tasks.
Bifocals require you to move your gaze to either the top of the frames or the bottom of the frames, depending on the distance of the object you are viewing. Walking requires you to look ahead to plan your next move while at the same time glancing down to ensure proper footing. If I kept my head still and moved only my eyes up and down, I couldn't get my feet into proper focus. The bottom half of my frames were calibrated to fewer than 12 inches. If I wasn’t sure of the surface below my feet, I had to bend my neck. This allowed me to move my gaze to the top part of my frames so that I could see the ground beneath my feet. I started to get a neck ache from more frequent use of those muscles.
Taking the stairs was no act of grace. I had to slow down, hold the rail, bend at the waist a bit and bend my neck so that I could properly see each footfall. Gone were the days of racing up and down the stairs with my arms full. I use the railing more, especially when wearing high heels.
But it was driving that presented the greatest challenge. Think about how often drivers change their gaze: out the front windshield, over to the side mirrors, over the shoulders to check blind spots, up to the rear view mirror and then down to the dashboard to monitor speed. Each time I changed my gaze, I had to train my eye to find the correct half of my lenses for proper focus. During the first week of adjustment, I actually switched back to my old lenses while driving. This regression is seriously frowned upon in the “how to” literature, but I was more concerned about my safety and the safety of others on the road, even if this meant my transition time would take longer.
And then there were the headaches. At the end of my first week, I was invited to attend a banquet with my husband. I sat at the table with my head in my hands. Another diner asked, “Are you OK?” I had a headache that felt as though someone inserted a rail spike into my temple. In addition, I was nauseated and had muscle tension in my neck in shoulders. In hindsight, I should have skipped the banquet.
Luckily, these symptoms abated after about two weeks. But if you know anyone getting new glasses, maybe take the elevator with them and offer to be the driver for the first week or so of their adjustment period. And offer a little tea and sympathy—but remain stationary while doing so.
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