After yesterday's post, I realized that either 1) it was maybe too serious 2) it didn't make sense or 3) offended too many. Regardless, I am still going to write about it. Probably several entries, in fact. In the meantime, however, I will break up the arduous and formidable topic with this little tale from my life.
A sign of my body succumbing to illness is when my eyes become tired and sore. Not just achy but the eyeballs themselves throb and pound. The only relief is a very hot washcloth on my eyes, liberal amounts of water, and massive amounts of sleep. Over the past couple of years, I noticed that my eyes were more sore than they weren't.
Beginning in September, this little symptom started snowballing. I felt it every day, particularly at night. I could not keep my eyes open. Just painful. I just knew a terrible combination of illnesses were waiting for me the very next morning - a boiling pot of pneumonia, flu, bronchitis, topped of by the worst sinus infection of all time. Headaches began their decent by mid morning each day and I decided I could wait not longer. To the doctor I went.
Despite a series of doctor appointments, a round of antibiotics and nasal decongestant, nothing changed. To make matters worse, another condition developed, too - jaw clenching and some teeth grinding. My doctor suspicions began to grow and he decided to order an MRI to see exactly what was going on with all of these symptoms. It showed nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zippo.
The holidays came and went. I began to tire more easily resulting in my bedtime rolling in around 8. All I wanted to do was close my eyes. I decided I needed lots of vitamins, exercise and water. Unfortunately, this didn't change my fatigue, instead it gave me gas and muscle soreness.
Last week, while I was cleaning out my nightstand, I contemplated calling the doctor...again. But, what was he going to do? Blood work? I was in a bit of a quandary. I was organizing this drawer when I spied something shoved way in the back. I had not seen this in several years. I opened it up. Low and behold, after using it, my eye aches, my clenching, my headaches have all gone away. It has been miraculous!
What did I find, you ask? Why, the glasses that were prescribed to me about 4 years ago that haven't been on my face in about 2 years!
I do have a couple pairs of reading glasses that get tossed around in my pocketbook. I bring them out whenever the print is too small for me to read. Usually, though, I don't take the time to get them out, opting to deepen my frown lines by squinting my way through it. For the last two years, I have been a more consistent blogger and computer user which, without a doubt, has caused the eye irritation and headaches. I promptly made an appointment with my optometrist to have an exam and update my prescription. In the meantime, I will be sporting my old specks all the time. Sometimes we just can't see the obvious.
Showing posts with label glasses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label glasses. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Sunday, May 10, 2009
The Blue Hour
The term "blue hour" comes from a French expression l'heure bleue, which refers to twilight, the period each morning and evening where there is neither full daylight nor complete darkness. The time is considered special because of the quality of the light at this time of day and because this is often when the smell of the flowers is at their strongest. In literature, this term often symbolizes a period of innocence.
My vision of the blue hour is the very first light of the morning which creeps its way through the windows, the trees outlined starkly in contrast to the cool and yet, comforting blue hues in the sky. I saw the blue hour this morning as my youngest crawled into bed with me. It was a rare night of musical beds. Though everyone began in their own beds, in the morning I found myself in Sadie's bed, Sadie was on her trundle bed and Lily was in my bed, until she sought me out once again this time in Sadie's bed. I remember when the musical beds game was routine for us, over 2 years ago. That is one rite of passage I am glad is pretty much behind us.
As Lily crawled in behind me in Sadie's white sleigh bed, I gazed through the white wooden blinds. I thought about that "period of innocence" so perfectly on display by the azure sky this morning. My Lily will graduate in a couple of weeks from preschool, marking the end of one title I have held for 7 years, "Mom of a Preschooler." But, in the last couple of weeks she has met the world in all of its rudeness head on. Another child laughed at her, remarking that she has crisscrossed eyes, giggling at her glasses. Lily ran to me, crying at the hurt she just experienced. It was her first insight into being different. It was her first introduction that something might be wrong with her. It was her first experience that others can simply be mean. My heart rushed to comfort her. I was stunned at the cruelty of another child at such a young age. But, I remained fixed and focused on healing her hurts. As I wiped away the tears, I wanted to wipe this encounter away from her memory as well. The impact of this moment did not escape me. It was the dwindling of her innocence, the end of the blue hour.
The days go by slowly, but the years are flying by. More times this year than ever, I have had older mothers and grandmothers tell me to cherish these times, each and every day. Their advice is given at random in the grocery store, at the park, at school. Sometimes it seems I am scrambling, a day late in capturing and holding onto those moments. School work comes home in droves, showing the progression with the ages. Lily can now write several words and seems to amble around, paper and pen always toted along with her. Sadie is completely immersed in some serious chapter books, but still devotes energy to catch lizards along the driveway and crayfish in the creek. Ethan is plotting his 9th birthday party and prospective gifts. We spent time today putting together the Mouse Trap contraption in the game with the same name. He never fails to be appreciative of the undivided time I give to him.
Similar to the incident with Lily on the playground, I see the bits of innocence being chipped away from all three of my children. As they age, their exposure to the world increases, and their sense of security will inevitably decrease. I hope and pray that their hearts will remain full of optimism, courage, creativity, confidence, self-assurance; in the light of l'heure bleue.
My vision of the blue hour is the very first light of the morning which creeps its way through the windows, the trees outlined starkly in contrast to the cool and yet, comforting blue hues in the sky. I saw the blue hour this morning as my youngest crawled into bed with me. It was a rare night of musical beds. Though everyone began in their own beds, in the morning I found myself in Sadie's bed, Sadie was on her trundle bed and Lily was in my bed, until she sought me out once again this time in Sadie's bed. I remember when the musical beds game was routine for us, over 2 years ago. That is one rite of passage I am glad is pretty much behind us.
As Lily crawled in behind me in Sadie's white sleigh bed, I gazed through the white wooden blinds. I thought about that "period of innocence" so perfectly on display by the azure sky this morning. My Lily will graduate in a couple of weeks from preschool, marking the end of one title I have held for 7 years, "Mom of a Preschooler." But, in the last couple of weeks she has met the world in all of its rudeness head on. Another child laughed at her, remarking that she has crisscrossed eyes, giggling at her glasses. Lily ran to me, crying at the hurt she just experienced. It was her first insight into being different. It was her first introduction that something might be wrong with her. It was her first experience that others can simply be mean. My heart rushed to comfort her. I was stunned at the cruelty of another child at such a young age. But, I remained fixed and focused on healing her hurts. As I wiped away the tears, I wanted to wipe this encounter away from her memory as well. The impact of this moment did not escape me. It was the dwindling of her innocence, the end of the blue hour.
The days go by slowly, but the years are flying by. More times this year than ever, I have had older mothers and grandmothers tell me to cherish these times, each and every day. Their advice is given at random in the grocery store, at the park, at school. Sometimes it seems I am scrambling, a day late in capturing and holding onto those moments. School work comes home in droves, showing the progression with the ages. Lily can now write several words and seems to amble around, paper and pen always toted along with her. Sadie is completely immersed in some serious chapter books, but still devotes energy to catch lizards along the driveway and crayfish in the creek. Ethan is plotting his 9th birthday party and prospective gifts. We spent time today putting together the Mouse Trap contraption in the game with the same name. He never fails to be appreciative of the undivided time I give to him.
Similar to the incident with Lily on the playground, I see the bits of innocence being chipped away from all three of my children. As they age, their exposure to the world increases, and their sense of security will inevitably decrease. I hope and pray that their hearts will remain full of optimism, courage, creativity, confidence, self-assurance; in the light of l'heure bleue.
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