Right after my first chemo treatment in December 2009, my vision went all wonky. It was fine in the mornings, but got progressively worse throughout every day. I remember going to a holiday program at school and clapping for the wrong short, dark-haired kid because I couldn’t tell which one was Jack. My oncologist said my vision changes had nothing to do with the chemo, but I found all sorts of message boards online where people complained about chemo farking up their vision, so pffft on my oncologist. Everything on the Internet is true.
Because my vision has not been consistently poor, I’ve just lived with it for the past two years. Sometimes it’s bothered me a lot, like when people waved to me in the hallway at school and I had no idea who they were until I was two feet from them, by which time they decided I was totally rude. Oh, and the driving. Drivers should really be able to see where they’re going and the cars they’re about to plow into. I read that somewhere. When I could see.
I put off having my eyes checked for a long time not just because the poor vision came and went, but also because I’ve already had LASIK twice and I don’t want to have it again. Have you smelled that smell of corneas when lasers are cutting them? It’s unpleasant. Ha—that makes it sound tolerable. Anyway, I kinda had to convince myself glasses were an OK option. It took a while.
So I finally saw an eye doctor and got glasses last week and it’s lovely to be able to see things again but today I passed by a mirror and had to stop, back up, and look again because I thought it was my third grade self in the mirror. Well, my third grade self who had grown horribly obese (hey, for a third grader…). I swear to you, my new glasses look exactly like the pair I had in third grade. EXACTLY.
I went through an old photo album tonight, looking for my school picture from that year. If I had found one, I would have drawn ugly curly hair on it and told you it was taken today. AND YOU WOULD HAVE BELIEVED ME.
When I was in sixth grade and had oh-so-sexy new glasses, I scoffed at my first pair. I asked my mom more than once why she ever let me get something so ugly. But now? Now I have no one to blame but myself and maybe the optician lady who said they were a good fit for my face. Her eyes pointed in two different directions, why did I listen to her?