Remember that line from your childhood days? There was always some poor kid with really thick glasses at school who was picked on and teased by kids with good vision.
I just Googled “coke bottle glasses” and found links to “nerd costumes” and “bookworms.”
Well, I’m a mom to such a “nerd” and “bookworm.” A kid with coke bottle glasses. When Corbin was 3 he was diagnosed with cataracts in both eyes, uveitis and juvenile idiopathic arthritis. He now also has glaucoma. Two separate surgeries removed the lenses from his eyes which resulted in his need for glasses. Really really thick glasses.
I was terrified when he first went to school, even crying in the principal’s office as I voiced my worries about bullying. But the bullies never appeared – at least not because of the glasses. But that’s another essay.
Over the last 6 years, I’ve gotten used to the thick glasses that distort his eyes. The glasses are so heavy that he seems to squint a lot to keep them up on his nose. He has to hold his head at an angle to watch TV. He can’t wear sunglasses because they don’t make them in his strong perscription.
One thing I really miss is looking into those eyes – I mean really looking into them. His irises have holes in them from his surgeries, and one is a funny shade of green while the other is blue. Since he can’t see more than a few inches without them, I very rarely see him without those glasses. Except when he sleeps. And then his eyes are closed so I still can’t look into them.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Well, I really want to see my son’s soul.
Things may change tomorrow – he’s going for his monthly check up and Remicade treatment. And there will be a pair of contacts waiting for him in the neuro-ophthalmologist’s office. He wore contacts for a little while after his first surgery, but they irritated him too much. Now that he’s older, we are trying again.
He’ll look like a different boy tomorrow when he comes home from the hospital. Plus he just got his haircut, so it’s like he’s having a makeover (just what every 9 year old boy wants!) Who knows if the contacts will work – he may hate the feel of them. Maybe he won’t be able to see well enough with them. I don’t know. But I do know that perhaps, even just for a short time, I’ll be able to really look into my son’s eyes. And perhaps see his soul.
And I hope he’ll look back and see mine.