A Variation of Normal

Here’s the thing, my glasses broke the other day and I cannot afford to get them replaced. My prescription is complicated. So until I can afford to get new ones I am walking around with nerd tape on my frames. That’s right, a grown woman with nerd tape. But oh well, what can I do. Sometimes life calls for such measures. But here’s the thing, at least I can still see. I remember when I got my first pair of glasses many, many, many years ago. I walked out of the doctor’s office and I could see leaves on the trees. I was astounded. Those were cows in the meadow not blobs of goo that I was too freaked out about to question. I had no idea that trees had leaves from a distance. I guess I thought everyone saw the way I did. But as I got older my eyes grew progressively worse and I continued to need more and more complicated lenses. One year I went for an exam and the doc gave me the drops and told me to relax as  my pupils dilated. I really hate that part. But anyhoo, he looks in my eyes and gets all alarmed. He says, “You have cupping of the disk.”In my blurred state I looked at him and said, “What?”“Cupping of the disk.” Apparently this is not normal and is symptomatic of glaucoma. So he suggested very strongly that I make an appointment with an ophthalmologist for further evaluation. Now this was freaking me out. All I could think was that I would be blind in a matter of hours. Cupping of the disk? So off I went to the ophthalmologist who performed an exam on my eyeballs that rivaled any known terrorist interrogation tactics. Seriously, the doc put so many chemicals in my eyes that when I left my eyes were green. GREEN! Not the irises but the whites of my eyes had turned green. And not a pleasant hunter green or grass green. Nope. I’m talking toxic waste green. The doc assured me this was temporary and should go away in a few hours. SHOULD? Anyway, the upshot of the whole ordeal is this. After a through examination of my eyeballs and my optic nerves the doctor came to this startling conclusion.“It’s a variation of normal.”I laughed. “What?”She repeated her diagnosis. “A variation of normal. For you. Cupping of the optic disk is normal and nothing to worry about. Come back next year.”Variation of normal. I left. Still laughing because that seemed to sum up my whole life, and my personality. A variation of normal. So now when I say or do something stoopid or some crapful life thing happens I can look myself in the eye and say, “It’s okay. It’s variation of normal.”But aren’t we all? Variations of normal? The trick I suppose is knowing what normal is.