A Brief History Of My Vision Correction

If I were ever to write an autobiography, one of the main threads holding it all together would be the evolution of the various methods of vision correction I’ve employed over the years. Granted, this means that it would undoubtedly be a terrible book, but they say you should write what you know, so what other choice would I have? (I mean, besides the entire chapter dedicated to napping, and perhaps another on cheese?)

However, since I’ll probably never get around to writing my life’s story, I’ve decided to give you a condensed version of the history of my vision correction right now. Think of it as an early Christmas present. Or the literary equivalent of a mail bomb. Your choice.

Let’s begin way back in my elementary school days, which is when my eyes first began to fail. Being the ever-astute and observant child I was, I had absolutely no idea that this was happening, as I was far too busy bumping into things to have time to notice. Eventually, however, my parents realized that I’d begun to continually employ the poor man’s glasses, which is to say I was always squinting at stuff. Being the loving individuals they are, and also not wanting me going around looking like I was perpetually constipated, they brought me to the eye doctor, and soon after I was the owner of a new pair of glasses.

What a revolutionary development! I could see again! I’d just kind of assumed that a perpetual fog had descended over the world during the third grade, but now everything was clear and sharp and focused! Heck, I was even bumping into far fewer things! Hooray!

The road ahead, however, wouldn’t be all sunshine and unicorns, because soon after, the inherent destructive power present in all boys began to take its toll, resulting in the bending, scratching, and downright mangling of more than one pair of glasses. To put it another way, I’m pretty sure that if rotary phones had speed dial, the eye doctor’s office would have been number one on the list. (I’m quite certain that my parents single-handedly paid for an entire new wing on the man’s house.)

The worst was when I played my sport of choice: basketball. You see, the way it was done in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan employed neither talent nor grace. Instead, we just fouled each other until it was time for supper, and needless to say, this blunt style of play led directly to the destruction of multiple pairs of glasses.

And so, we now arrive at the era of the Sports Goggles of Doom. I have written extensively on this topic before, so I won’t get into the details here. All I’ll say is that while they were wonderfully effective in terms of not getting broken, they also had the sleekness and elegance generally associated with a dump truck rolling down a hill, and were probably heavier.

Eventually, spurred on by an almost manic desire to get rid of the Sports Goggles of Doom, I decided to try out contacts, which, as it turns out, are much better options than glasses, assuming, of course, that one is able to figure out how to get them in and out, which was something that took me far longer than I’d care to admit to master. Eventually, however, I figured it out, and I was suddenly able to play sports without having to worry about causing my parents to go broke! Plus, I no longer had to deal with glasses that fogged up every time I got onto the warm school bus after standing out in the cold, which invariably left me stumbling down the aisle and hoping that the seat I’d eventually choose didn’t already have somebody sitting in it.

While still a huge upgrade from glasses, contacts still presented a few problems:

• If I ever napped with them in, my eyes would dry out and turn red, and upon waking it'd feel pretty much the same as if I’d jammed rocks into them as a means of vision correction.
• Sometimes, one would slip off and roll up way behind my eye. Actually, on second though, that was always kind of cool.
• To put them in, I always needed to have a mirror handy, and if one wasn’t available, I’d just randomly stab at my eyes until I started to cry and then give up.

Over the years, I’ve exclusively used 30 day contacts, which in theory means they should last a month before needing to be replaced, but which in reality means that after 10 days of wear and tear they start to feel a bit uncomfortable, and after 30 you may as well be pouring hot sauce directly into your eyes.

Recently, however, I’ve discovered daily contacts, which, as you can probably guess, you only use once. This is almost as revolutionary as when I first got glasses. Contacts feel great the first time you put them in, as they’re fresh and new, and now I get to feel that each time I wear them! Plus, it’s a wonderful thing to take them out in the evening and throw them away without having to clean and store them. “Ha ha!!” I’ll yell, as I drop them into the garbage. “I’ve just saved thirty seconds of my life, which I’ll more than likely waste on social media!!!”

So, needless to say, I’m pretty happy. However, I still sometimes find myself wondering, are daily contacts the final solution? Or should I consider something else, something, shall we say, a bit more dramatic?

Yes, I’m thinking about Lasik, mainly because everybody I know who’s had it says it was the best thing they’ve ever done. However, none of them have ever won the lottery or become kings or queens of small island nations, so it’s hard to say what they're comparing it against.

Still, even if it’s the miracle that everybody claims it is, I have to admit that I'm kind of a chicken when it comes to having elective surgery done on my peepers, and the main reason I’m writing this now is to build up my motivation to grow a spine and do it. I mean, how much damage can a laser do to your eyes anyway? Wait, don’t answer that.

And so here I sit, lost in indecision, which means that maybe I should turn it over to you, my wonderful audience. What do you think? Should I let ‘em zap my eyes and see how it all turns out? I mean, no matter what, it has to be better than the Sports Goggles of Doom, right?

Right?