My gaspy wheezes led to my hacky cough which led to my eventual laryngitis. After 11 days of bronchial fun and games, I took myself to the doctor, using up a preschool morning of freedom to do so. (So you know it was serious.) Waiting the extra 30 minutes while the construction worker got his two fingers sewed back on gave me time to finish my latest trashy vampire novel and reminded me to be grateful that I was there for a cough, as my previous visit to this facility was when I sliced off the end of my finger with a potato slicer. Ahem.
Dr. Greeny McYoung'un was excited to see me with so many symptoms for him to diagnose. I somehow managed to leave the office with two diagnoses (asthmatic bronchitis and pink eye) and a mind-boggling array of medication. In my fist, I gripped a wad of prescriptions for a Z-pack, a steroid pack, a new inhaler, Xopenex for the nebulizer, eye drops, and cough syrup with codeine. It was like it was his first day with a prescription pad and his name stamp. Oh, and he gave me a massive steroid shot in the hip for good measure.
I will admit that I was feeling better in a day or two, but the darn symptoms are still not gone a week later. And? AND? He told me I had to wear my glasses for seven days. I haven't worn my glasses that much since I was in the sixth grade. I am legally, horribly, -10.5, special needs blind. My glasses have every bell and whistle you can pay for to make them smaller, lighter, and thinner, but the fact is that I look pretty special when I wear them. And I hate them.
However, wearing them for five straight days (I caved, that's all I could do. Pray I won't get eye rot from wearing contacts on Day 6) I've had time to re-mull all the things I hate about glasses.
- Driving. You can't wear sunglasses, so it's all glare-y and bright. In a couple of desperate moments, I actually put my sunglasses atop my regular glasses. Oh, yes I did.
- Peripheral vision. As in, I have none when I wear glasses. Can't look down, can't check to the side without a full head tilt or swivel. Nada.
- The sweating, OH THE SWEATING. It's 90 degrees in Georgia. It's humid. It's gooey. My glasses are constantly sliding down my face.
- The pool. My boys want to go to the pool every. Single. Day. And, frankly, so do I. It's the one place we're all happy. Except when I have to wear my glasses. In the pool. With children. I feel so cool meeting neighbors while I wipe the water off the front of my glasses. I might as well just stick my finger up my nose while I'm at it.
- The shower. I have to wear my glasses in the shower to ensure that I use shampoo and conditioner in the right order and shave all the parts of each leg. Do you know what a pain it is to shower in glasses? I don't think I need to explain further.
- The fog. I walked into the indoor pool at the YMCA for Piglet's swimming lesson the other day and my glasses immediately fogged up. After my heart-wrenching flashback to selling Girl Scout Cookies in Ohio in the dead of winter, my instinct was to whip off my glasses. BLIND! BLIND! Next to a body of water with two children and BLIND! Slapped them back on and began the nerd wipe again.
- The staring. I know my glasses make me look like a freakshow, but people kind of openly stare at me. Not really strangers, but the people who know me by name or face who can't quite pinpoint what's wrong. It makes me uncomfortable and more awkward that usual, which is saying a lot.
- The eyebrows. I'm not going to go into great detail here, but I will just say that if one possesses copious eyebrows and if one is legally blind, one really needs contacts to pluck properly. When one slides the glasses down the nose to access the brows, the vision goes. When one slides the glasses back up to reinstate vision, the brows are blocked. It's a lose, lose. Maybe that's why people are staring? I wonder if my eyebrows are hanging over the tops of my glasses already?