A Sight for Sore Eyes

I am a big fan of those old-timey sayings like bees knees, cat’s pyjamas, and when the Tramp starts calling Lady Pige (short for Pigeon) after he unsolicitedly breaks the bad news of “baby in” means “dog out”…as a little girl I always wished I would one day find a love who would call me Dollface or Pigeon.  Not sure why, but it spoke to me.  I also use to have a crush on Alf and Howard the Duck as a kid, so my precepts of affection were perhaps a bit skewed?

Last weekend began with a Surprise Party for my husband…a great way to start a weekend btw.  Not sure what was the best part, maybe his surprise, maybe the way so many people came and really showed up, perhaps the assemblage of so many great people in one space, the seeing and connection with faces who no longer grace our day to day, let alone year to year lives, now that we have moved 7 hours away, whatever it was…probably a combination of it all, it was special.

All of these people were a sight for sore eyes and I was constantly checking my presence- meter to be there and soak it all in.  Watching my husband hug, laugh, cheers and talk with each guest was so worth the effort and it turned out to be the best birthday gift I could have given him.

A few days later, upon our return home, I had an eye exam.  I was almost at the 2 year mark and my contacts had been driving me crazy.  The dust in the air is brutal right now and takes its toll on contact wearers, lodging particles between lens and iris, making me look all strung out and bloodshot like.

After all the cool visual tests they do, the optometrist said I had healthy eyes but  suggested that as a migrainure I forgo my contacts for a few weeks, wearing my glasses exclusively.  Holding my breath, I said I would try.  His reasoning was sound in the idea of potential migraines being caused by lens wearing since the contact sits directly on your eye and adjusts by floating which can cause strain.  The glasses being stationary were going to give me the best vision possible. Ah fine.

My plastic frame tortoise shell glasses have always been my last resort, only succumbing to their use when my eyes are screaming to be free of the contact lens dome.  Because of their limited use, the last pair I chose favoured fashion over function, made with slippy-plastic material that doesn’t stay put, especially on my dreamy oily skin type and the inherited small-bridge nose from the Chinese side of my family.

If I was going to do a two week bootcamp (or possibly even longer) with glasses, I was going to need a new pair, with the adjustable nose piece.  While sitting with a glasses technician I asked out of curiosity if my prescription had changed in which she replied I am not sure (because I hadn’t been to this optometrist before…oh right duh).  But then I remembered I had brought my contact lens boxes with me in case they needed to see them.

I pulled them from my bag to show her and she looked at the end, then at the paper, then back at the prescription on the boxes, almost like she needed new glasses.  Then she looked at me firmly.  Nope she was seeing clearly.  These are not right for your eyes AT ALL, she said.  I was like, okay so I guess my eyes have changed then.  She was like no, these are completely wrong…where did you get this information?

I explained how I had some challenges with the other place and decided to go rouge after a series of unfortunate communication events and misorders, asking them for my prescription and deciding to order contacts online myself, thank you very much.  She then explained that your glasses prescription is not the same as your contact lens prescription.  I had no idea.  I guess the other office didn’t either or this was a mass oversight when they gave me my numbers, knowing I was going to order contacts with that information.  Yet another miscommunication.

So I realized there would be no trying in wearing only my glasses for the next few weeks because the contact lenses themselves were not just wrong, but may have been a significant trigger in my migraine patterns.  We will wait and see (no pun intended).

Facetune_26-04-2018-13-48-28
 Happy Birthday to the most handsome beard on the planet!

In the light of these two experiences that may seem to be unrelated I have drawn a connection.  The reunion of friends was full of good times and bees knees and cats pj’s kinda folks.  They were a sight for my sore eyes because I hadn’t seen some of them in far too long and I wanted to just keep looking, keep watching, taking them all in in that fleeting moment of togetherness.  But my eyes were literally fucking sore, to the point of strain and migraines and so I am feeling hopeful after these two events.  One because of healing, uplifting connection and the other due to another piece of the puzzle finally presenting itself.

As for finding a love who calls me Pigeon or Dollface…this didn’t happen…we are not that couple. He may go as far as Hon or the first syllable of my name Sar, and sometimes even Dude! said in exasperation.  But what I don’t have in petnames, I have in a partner, what everyone showed up for the other night, a guy who is kind and funny, thoughtful and authentic, not to mention handsome as heck, someone totally worth celebrating.  A sight for sore eyes.

 

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