Eye have a dream

tired eyes Henti Smith
Photo by Henti Smith

So I had vision correction surgery a little more than a week ago. Not some sissy Lasik, but its meaner, uglier cousin – called PRK, or as docs are tending to rebrand it now, advanced surface ablation. It’s generally a more solid solution than Lasik, but the recovery time is, not to mince words, a bitch.

I was able to go to work twice last week, but the white glare of a web browser or Word doc is more than I can take after about five minutes. It’s frustrating.

I could pitch this as a blog post about saving money on contacts in the long run, or about not putting all that plastic in the landfill (I was down to the daily-wear disposable lenses, and even then could only wear them about every other day). I could pitch this as a piece about simplifying my life, and about not wasting time putting contacts in and out all the time, and getting rid of bottles of solution from the cabinet.

But that would all be B.S., because truth is, I did it for convenience. I’m sure it will pay off eventually, when I can handle glare, read a book, and produce enough moisture in my eye for good clarity. Right now, i’m still a little cranky about what I’ve done to myself and about the week-and-a-half of my life that I’ll never get back.

There was a wonderful moment of clarity last Monday, though. A short-stack of coincidences piled up to put a smile on my face.

I’d hovered over the computer at home long enough to start playing an album by Joshua James. I enjoyed, for a moment, what I could see of the Google Doodle celebrating Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Then I went to the couch and covered my eyes and listened to the music.

And Joshua James sang:

     Ain’t opening my eyes til we all walk free

     Ain’t opening my eyes til we all walk free

     Ain’t opening my eyes til we all walk free, til the color of skin don’t mean a damn thing.”

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