It’s 11.30pm. I am writing this on the last night of having myopia which I’ve had for 24 years. I will be undergoing LASIK tomorrow, a procedure that I hope, I know will change everything.
Yes, I was formally prescribed glasses at 13, but by then my
eye grade was at least 100. I remember having difficulty reading things written
on the blackboard as early as 10 years old. As a child, I was not one to tell my
caregivers what was wrong, or express my needs.
So I just pushed through, thinking that blur was normal and
I was just abnormal for having to move to the front seat of the classroom to
copy stuff from the blackboard. Then came high school. One of my
prospective schools required a comprehensive medical exam. The school doctor
made me read the eye chart, and I could no longer recite the last few lines.
She asked me to see an optometrist, and to tell my parents. I remember the feeling
of first wearing my prescribed glasses at 13—wow, the world is THIS clear? I was
living in darkness. Oh and only then did I have a clear view of the map of acne
on my face.
At 20, my kind cousin, ate Urice, gave me a powerful,
empowering college graduation gift- contact lenses. She accompanied me to the
optometrist, taught me how to use contacts, and guided me on how to purchase
contacts on my own the next time I needed new ones. I got the monthly ones, which
cost 220 per month. Since then I rarely wore glasses again, only doing so at
home or when going on long trips. I kept a mental note to myself to always have a job so I could support my habit/need of wearing contacts. Add
to that- contacts solution, and spare pairs, just in case. That was my addiction, or at least my "luho". Not that costly, but required consistency.
Contacts changed my life, and gave me a new sense of
self-esteem. It was empowering as I entered the young adult life. But it also compelled
me to be extra conscientious and sometimes fastidious. For instance, in
my early 20s straight out of college, my first-ever job involved a LOT of field
work in the Cordilleras. This meant bus rides and sleeping in homes in different
communities. I had to always consider these two plastic things stuck in my
eyeballs as much as I had to think about my job. I got used to it eventually,
and the clarity these two plastic thingies provided helped a ton, outweighing
the periodic inconveniences.
It was my litmus test
for dating too- will you be patient enough as I conducted my 10-minute ritual of removing,
cleansing, and disinfecting these two tacky things on my eyes, and putting
it back on? Will you help me blindly find a missing piece in case I accidentally
drop one on the floor?
One time, I accidentally dropped one of my contacts inside a
drum of water, and an ex-boyfriend had to “dive” into the drum to retrieve it. The
relationship didn’t last, because although he passed this particular litmus
test, he failed in all others.
In the last few years leading to today, I’ve had “vision
scares” – one doctor even tagging me as a “Glaucoma suspect.” One clinic in QC required
me to undergo all kinds of tests, only to say, “Come back in 6 months,” with no
clear diagnosis or next step. Another vision scare was me going on runs and all
of a sudden not being able to see, because my contact lenses would wiggle their
way to the back of my eyeballs. I got into a running accident in February because
of this, falling flat on my face on the pavement, one knee completely bleeding,
my pants ripped, and me calling to wake up my husband early in the morning to
come pick me up. By now prolonged wearing of glasses makes me dizzy, as they're farther
from the eyes and has a different prescription, so I can’t wear them outdoors comfortably.
In hindsight, throughout my “fully conscious”, mature-enough
existence, I never really saw the world as it is, or how I think it’s “supposed”
to look like. Is there even one way of seeing?
That moment at 13 in the optical shop, when I first saw
myself and my surroundings clearly, it was an AHA! moment, a moment of me
realizing that how I viewed the world was not only unclear, it was inaccurate. “So,
all along, other people SEE differently than I do?” – I remember thinking.
Tomorrow, the laser will cut through my cornea, creating a
flap. The flap is opened, then the laser will proceed to do its precise adjustments
inside my eye. Ahh, technology. Beautiful. And slightly overwhelming.
I’ve never had surgery in my life, and I sure hope I will
never need one. This will be a first. Just the thought of having these major
organs, these precious eyes, cut by a human-made machine; and the thinner-than-plastic
surface of the cornea oh so gently sealed back into place by the masterful
hands of a doctor… is a daunting thought. My eyes will never be the same again,
and I am more than grateful.
Thank you, current cornea. Tomorrow, you will be renewed. Something
will cut through you, and you will be in different form in less than 24 hours
from the time I finish writing this.
Thank you, eyes, for always attempting to see, even when it’s
almost always hard. Thank you for adjusting and readjusting, for blinking, for
crying, when need be.
Thank you for guiding, for absorbing, and registering this
beautiful visual world unto my brain.
Thank you for being with me, and still opening up every day,
even when all that’s greeting you is always a big blur - the ceiling, the people
around me, the chances I sometimes fail to acknowledge, the changes I delay making… or myself.
Even in darkness, you try your best. Thank you, thank you!
And I can’t wait for you to finally see 20/20, or close
enough, so at least there will be no need to always try so hard, to pretend to be
conscientious… to no longer fail to appreciate what this life still has to offer, and truly
capture what’s right in front me.
<3 Ivee
