I have “High Myopia”, meaning my eyes over -6. But it’s a double entendre: my view is off-focus in more ways than one.
Americans call myopic patients nearsighted; the Brits call it shortsightedness. Yeah, both fit. Again last night, my foot made its way into my mouth. That’s a pretty talented maneuver, since I can’t see past the nose on my face. The light is on, and so are the glasses, but Brother, is anybody home? It’s anybody’s guess—the view is awfully blurry.
Whenever I’m slated to be among people, it’s like somebody spiritual sneaks in and puts Fitovers over my glasses; suddenly I’m walking with blinders on. Out the door I go, and don’t worry: everyone is safe from this old mare—except that poor soul who doesn’t know me well enough to remember I speak better on paper than I do aloud. And may the Lord help anybody who’s the least bit thin-skinned.
Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others. –Php2:4
I totally identify a favorite bit by comedian Bryan Regan. You’re greeting a slightly overweight woman, the lips precede the brain, and the next thing you know, you’re saying the regrettable four words: “When’s the B-b-b-baby due?”
There are several types of myopia: degenerative, nocturnal, pseudo, induced… I think I have all of ‘em. I’ve tried everything to control it, but I’m blind-sighted: it’s not only incurable, it cannot be stabilized.
Warning to all sensitive sorts out there: “Forgive me, for I know not what I do.” And if you see me coming, shift yourself into a pack: there’s strength in numbers.