20/800, meet 20/20

You know the chart in the eye doctor’s office, the one with the big ol’ E on it?

Without my glasses, I can’t see the E. And on the chart my eye doctor uses especially for me, I can’t see the top letter on it, either. Welcome to the world of 20/800.

As a little girl, I remember squeezing my eyes shut as I woke up, praying that I’d be able to see the gigantic flowers on my wallpaper in all their blue, yellow and pink glory. But each morning I’d wake up and see a rainbowy blur. When I used to have to get up in the middle of the night to help the kids, I’d fumble around with the nightstand, desperately trying to grab my glasses before I knocked them under the bed, never to be seen until morning. And just yesterday, my alarm startled me out of a deep sleep; when I reached over to turn it off, I smacked my glasses half-way across the room. I’m so glad the kids have never walked in on me as I’m searching for my specs; I’m sure they’d call the funny farm at once.

Hopefully this morning was the last one that I had to search for my glasses before starting the day. Because today at 1:40, I’ll be having Lasik. I’m scared out of my mind because they’re putting a laser in my eye. And, quite honestly, if I were able to wear contact lenses, I wouldn’t even consider this. Because it’s a laser – pointed at my eye. But I haven’t been able to wear my contacts since last March and the thought of going through another summer wearing glasses which equals sweat dripping off the nose pieces, well, I’m going to risk the laser.

So here’s to perfect (or nearly-perfect) eye sight and a fast recovery. And please: if you’ve heard horror stories, don’t tell me until afterwards. I hear I get a little pill that makes me forget about the laser pointed at my eyeball. I am really, really looking forward to taking it and the nap that follows.