Perhaps it’s been happening for a while. My desk is by an east-facing window, so, during certain times of the year, the Sun is right in my eyes. With the building of Queen City Square, it’s become twice as bad, as the reflection of the setting sun hits me again. Writing off tired eyes as glare-related is easy.
I turned fourty, and, a few months later, I noticed occasionally having to move things a bit further back to read them clearly. I made a mental note to see an eye doctor, though I don’t think the promise was that sincere.
But this year seemed worse. Then, I was issued a new laptop around Thanksgiving. Perhaps that’s what triggered it. As December wore on, I found myself coming home with more and more headaches. They seemed to start earlier and earlier in the day. A few hours of not looking at screens or books (cooking supper, eating supper, etc.), and it went away, only to start to return with my pulling out my personal laptop. After the first of the year, I decided to actually schedule the appointment.
There were no appointments for four weeks. I didn’t think it an emergency, so I dealt with it. As the four weeks wore, I actively looked forward to the eye appointment–something had to provide relief. By the time I was getting to the bus in the evening, I just wanted to sit with my eyes closed.
The scheduled appointment arrived. I checked my new insurer’s web site–the eye doctor was listed. However, it turns out actual eye care was handled by a different company, that the doctor didn’t take. It was rather confusing, but I went with it. I scheduled an appointment for the weekend (about a week ago, as I write this) with a different optometrist.
I was diagnosed with an astigmatism, and given a prescription. I spent some time picking out a new pair of glasses, having very little to go on.
I’m actually amazed at the difference. The prescription is quite mild, and I can read without it for a quick glance. However, after a week of eight-to-five (or more) at work, plus any reading at home, and the difference is dramatic. I no longer have headaches at the end of the day–I don’t feel the need to revert to a near-ludite state when I get home. This makes me happy, as I can do some of the things I loved doing (such as putting up blog posts about wild cats). However, it definitely is a sign of getting older, which makes me a bit sad.
It happens to all of us, I guess.