Today’s my 55th birthday. I’m not feeling great about it. Two days ago, I noticed a black stringy thing floating hither and yon in my field of vision. An opthamologist confirmed it’s a “floater.” Some people get them as they age. There’s no treatment. “You just get used to it,” said the doctor, who appeared to be on the sunny side of 30. But then I can’t see too well. There’s an unpluckable mote or beam in my left eye, which is the one I use for reading.
The doc also said I’m now legally blind in that eye. I knew it was losing it but it was scary to only be able to read the top line on the eye chart. And it wasn’t an “E” like in the old days. I could have it re-Lasiked to be a middle-distance eye, which was what it was years ago, but I like being able to read without reading glasses. The right eye is handling the distance work.
Fortunately, my husband, who’s a few years older, is showing signs of wear too. We will grow decrepit together.
Update: DilbertBlog has a timely post asking: What’s your permanent age? I was 23 for about 10 years, 32 for about 12 years and now think I should be 40. I probably can keep that fantasy going for another five years.