Can You See Me Now?

UPDATE: Doc says I probably passed a fleck of plaque into my eye from an artery, and that these usually resolve quicky, as mine did. She also said I have high pressures and may have glaucoma. More tests to follow. I better stock up on books for the waiting rooms.

I started wearing glasses in fourth grade. I realized I couldn't read the chalkboard, and so my mom got me fitted in these old brown small squared frames. Of course, then the selection consisted of pointy frames, square black frames and square brown frames.
I got home and couldn't wait to put them on and look in the mirror. I remember thinking I looked smarter. Then I went to school with them on. My friends were gathered in the hall, and as I came in, the comments started. "Oh My God, where did you get THOSE glasses." "Man, those are ugly." I jerked them off and put them in my bookbag where they stayed unless I couldn't find a way to inch close enough to the board to read it. Then I'd slip them up, write it down, and quickly hide them away.
This hide and seek continued until I was dating in high school. I went to the drive-in and we actually were watching the movie (my daughter reads this) and he pointed out something on the screen. So I squinted and strained but I couldn't make out what he was talking about. He asked, "Can't you see that?" "No." "Why don't you get glasses?" "I have some." "Where?" "In my purse." "Well, put them on!"
After that, I wasn't quite as self-conscious, but there were times I just wouldn't wear them. Like on a first date. To get my driver's license picture made. When I had to go to a new group meeting of some kind.
Eventually, I got married, had kids, and started wearing them all the time. I found an eye doctor that could fit prisms (one of the accomodations for lazy eye) and I remember coming out the office with them thinking, "Oh My! Look at the trees! They have leaves!" Evidently I hadn't been seeing too well.
Then I hit my forties, and slowly print in phone books started looking blurry, but if I squinted really hard, I could make it out. I spent over an hour trying to thread a needle to sew on a button. The wonderful doctor who fitted my glasses retired and the new ones I've tried just don't get it right. So now, at fifty, I have progressive trifocals, and still I can't read with them. They bother me so much trying to read that whether I think about it or not, I end up tossing them onto a nearby table.
A couple of weeks ago, I had an episode where I woke up and couldn't see at all out of my left eye. I didn't want to tell anyone and worry them. It was a weekend, and I knew I had to see my doctor anyway for a physical, so I kept quiet. I knew it wasn't an injury because it was fine when I went to bed. By the next morning, I was seeing some out of it, but blurry. Then it gradually got back like it was before.
I told my doctor, and he's freaking. He has made appointments for me with every specialist imaginable, so all week I've been running to the doctor. I'm sure they'll figure it out. The ENT I saw yesterday thinks it may have something to do with the Meniere's disease. I see the Meniere's specialist next week, and an opthomologist tomorrow.
That scare made me aware of how much it means to me to be able to see, considering I've got hearing loss in both ears. I don't want to pull a Helen Keller anytime soon.
And while I'm on the subject, remember the old saying, "Boys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses?" Well, yes they do. And the best part is, you can see it coming.