The Heartbreak of Presbyopia
As I type these words, my personal chronometer is starting its annual rotation–“44 years”–and the words on my computer screen are crystal clear. No haloes, no fuzz, no fuss. Through the miracle of modern optics, I’ve fooled my brain into thinking that it’s 1984 again, when my limbs were limber and my eyes as sharp as an eagle’s. All is quiet on the Old Age Front. Quiet, that is, as long as I keep my head completely still and my eyes perfectly centered through the sweet spots of my birthday present–a brand spanking new pair of progressive addition, “no-line” bifocals.… Read the rest