In the spirit of revealing my deteriorating self, it’s time to talk about eyes. I realized I have lucky eyes when I noticed my peers reaching for glasses to read the phone book when we were in our forties. It was years before I needed reading glasses. (Of course, no one needs the phone book any more—Google takes care of that.)
Then about four years ago, my optometrist told me I would see better if I got my cataracts removed. He was right. Colors became sensational again.
Lately, though while reading to our grandchildren before they go to sleep, I’ve noticed that they don’t have a lot of light in their bedrooms. I have to strain a little to see, even though the print is large.
But the final realization came the other night. I was on my usual couch spot reading when I realized that the three-way bulb in the lamp on the end table needed to be upped to its highest setting.
According to the literature, a 60-year old needs twice as much light as a 30-year old because our pupils decrease in size as we age and the lens in our eyes thickens. Thus, less of the available light can enter the eye. We don’t notice it so much during the day, but at night it’s as if we are wearing sunglasses.
Alas, the deterioration continues.