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Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Breaking News!

This just happened.

Yes. I've joined the world of academia's erudite intellectuals.  
A long time in coming. Perhaps too long (but no one will ever be sure). Nevertheless, after a long-awaited eye check up in May - a World War that required three adults to hold me down, one to peel my eyelids apart and another to calmly and accurately look into my eye sockets with instruments that require accuracy, precision and nerves of steel while I shrieked as if undergoing torture - both the ophthalmologist and optometrist dispatched us with a piece of paper that read: He needs glasses. Yesterday. 

Well, perhaps that paper contained numbers and other medical terms, but the end result was the same. 

After recovering from the trauma that was the eye exam, mommy now had to figure out how glasses would materialize for me, what our insurance covers and where, because naturally only one shop in the entire city works with our insurance company. But on a positive note it is across the street from us. But on another note, they don't have a wide selection. And the selection only got slimmer.

Instantly, mommy eliminated the vulgar brightly colored frames that scream, "I am a CHILD! Can you TELL?" And then she nixed the Coke-bottle round frames made of one piece of continuous plastic with no hinges whatsoever which scream, "I am a SPECIAL NEEDS child! And clearly everyone expects me to break my glasses so I got this unbreakable one-piece number! Can you tell??!!"

And so she was left with approximately one set of frames.

It took another World War to actually try on these frames because, as a rule, no one and nothing should ever touch my head and face: not your caressing fingers, not a brush, not shampoo and not ever a hat. And especially not spectacles that are pressed to my cheeks and strapped around the back with elastic.

Important questions remained unanswered. Which shape was best for my face? Which color complemented my skin tone? Which would stay on my tiny bridge? These were all questions only God could answer since I forbade any meaningful trying on of frames.

We left the store empty-handed.

After recovering from that trauma, and in a superb leap of blind faith, mommy just went back to the eye glass shop one day, without me, ordered the closest-to-tortoise-shell-plastic-nearly unbreakable glasses she could find. And that was that. 

Mommy enjoyed the ceasefire until the glasses arrived replete with prescription lenses. With World War 3 looming large on the horizon, Mommy took GongGong and myself to the store.

GongGong braced himself, knowing the tsunami that was to come. See, mommy waits for the grandparents' visits to schedule all of my most challenging medical appointments. Such as the ones that involve invasive probings into eyes and ears, blood tests, long commutes and much rebellion. They are her wingmen, her bag carriers, her crew to help simultaneously restrain and entertain me with song, dance and iPads. This enables her to ask serious questions and finish conversations with doctors without me threatening to delve into their surgical supplies and trash their medicine cabinets.

And while grandparents are usually successful, nothing prepared them - or anyone - for the horror that was the eye test and subsequent trying on of glasses.

As we arrived at the glasses store I started my backwards two-step to the exit, knowing what awaited me. GongGong braced himself. Mommy dragged me forward. Everyone in the store tried to convince me that these new lens were going to change my worldview. I vehemently disagreed.

Fifteen torturous minutes later, an emergency call was placed to abba who arrived with some sort of magical calming effect that no one can explain. I compiled almost instantly. Glasses went on. And I looked great! And I saw great, which apparently is more important!

In utter disbelief, GongGong leaned back on one of the chairs allowing his frayed nerves and elevated blood pressure to return to normal. Mommy started breathing again as her heartbeat stabilized. But both knew that only time and a bottle of wine would restore them to their pre-frazzled state, hours if not days later.

I for one was unfazed by the event. In fact, I've never looked back. But I did see better!

A whole new world to discover!
I still employ my sideways glance.
Ill-fated attempts at grandparents-grandchildren shots

But here's our first family shot with my glasses! 
And with my new found vision, I was able to bid
farewell to MM&GG as they sojourned back to America. 
Thanks for all your help refereeing my appointments! See you soon on the other side of the Atlantic.

1 comment:

  1. What an exceptionally entertaining blog.....I would like to nomiate you for a noble prize.