Thursday, July 7, 2016

He's Dead, Jim

Last week, on Wednesday, 29 June, I was playing with all four of my nieces & nephews: Where's Teddy? (age seven) & his little sister, the Cupcake (age four), & the Squeak (age six) & her little brother, the Shriek (age four). We were fighting with foam ninja swords, which allowed us to swing with a degree of reckless abandon, unlike the plastic lightsabers, with which care is continually taken for the dent or bend the plastic too badly for the telescoping blades to telescope properly. Rather, the Kinder were swinging the ninja swords, because I own & brought four to our holiday getaway, Haugen's Haven, leaving one for each child; yours truly was reliant on his "elemental power," Old Man Strength. All was well until the Shriek, giddy with the proceedings, ignored the single rule of foam ninja sword combat, which is not to strike anyone in the face. The Shriek struck me in the face with all his tiny strength. I was unharmed, my spectacles having absorbed the force of the impact. My spectacles, having absorbed the force of the impact, broke into two pieces, one of the arms separated from the rest of the frames just below the hinge. With my specs lying on the ground, I quickly snatched up the four foam ninja swords, carried them inside the house, & placed them in a high spot, too high for any of the children to reach. Sure, I was mad, having just been whacked in the face & having had my spectacles shattered, but honestly my concern was for the kids, that none of them should be struck in the face as forcefully as was I. As soon as I came out of the house, I had to comfort the Shriek, who was upset that I was angry at him. Such is life around small children, both for good & for ill: he struck me, he broke my glasses, & yet I had to console him. I rang my optometrist's office & arranged an appointment for yesterday morning (Wednesday, 6 July), the first available appointment after the holiday weekend.

My prescription is only nominally changed from when I acquired my now-broken frames in 2010, but as long as I'm required to purchase new frames I might as well have the most up-to-date prescription lenses. My new spectacles should be ready in ten days, the clerk putting a rush on the job to shorten the usual fourteen-day wait. Nevertheless, I've been without glasses for over a week now, & I won't have new ones for another fortnight. "No, sir, I don't like it." I wear my spectacles every day. I don't do this for fashion, I wear them so that I might see better. Yes, occasionally I will eschew them, but by & large I wear them from the time I wake up in the morning to the time I lay down at night. I don't need to wear corrective lenses to drive & I can functional perfectly well, including reading & writing, but I'm not seeing as well as I'd like. My slightly astigmatic left eye of shouldering the load, since my right eye is rather near-sighted. I don't have a headache, mercifully, but I am haunted by the certainty that something is not quite right. I am not at all looking forward to spending the next two weeks like this.

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