A Life of Double Vision: Ghost Images Hover Over Solid Images
What would my life be like without going through the “pirate” episode in the popsicle line at Maplewood pool when I was six-years old? (See Part I: “Seeing With Crossed Eyes: My World in Double Vision”)
Or foregoing after-school sports for after-school eye training (Wow, what an athlete!) to strengthen my eye muscles (See Part II: “Being the Weirdo Kid With Glasses (and an Eye Patch)” at age seven.
And I wouldn’t have seen Dr. Bass, the strabismus specialist to try and straighten my eye that turned in (See Part III: Are You Holding Up One Finger or Two?). These are the wondrous things of my youth that make me who I am today.
Today, the goal of every ophthalmologist or optician I continue to see is to merge two images. But it hasn’t worked. So the appointment usually ends with at least trying to make the two images look, if not merged, as if they are side by side. Finally, the doctor and I are satisfied, but it’s a weird niche to fall into: being satisfied with an eye appointment that really didn’t work.
Through the years, I’ve amassed a collection of eyeglasses from the 60s, 70s, 80s, on up to today.
This reminds me of a story: One summer, I worked at a jewelry store on Martha’s Vineyard, and this guy walked in with cay-RAZY glasses.
“Who does this dude think he is? Elton John??” I said to my colleague after the sighting. It turns out it was Elton John.
Below is a spectrum of my eyeglasses. The ones on the upper left are cute, with the cat-eye twist. Go down two, and you’ll find the huge, circular tortoiseshell that I was bold enough to wear the first day at the office when I was a secretary in Paris. How about the ones under that? The red ones look like, I don’t know what, The Mod Squad? Or the green ones under that which I got after my father passed away to look like the glasses he wore (in the feminine version).
On the right are glasses 1–4 that remind me of being a young mother and all the duties that ensue as a professional mom. And finally (on the lower right), the pair I am wearing now.
Seeing the world through my eyes would make most people feel dizzy or nauseous, as if they had just stepped off a roller coaster at an amusement park or were living in a perennial hangover. There is also a ghost image hovering over the solid image.
When I had the stroke, everything went haywire. The images were double and stretched out so that someone talking to me looked like their jaw was to their chest.
But I can see!!! That’s the blessing. My brain has adjusted to focus on the sturdier image and try to disregard the ghost image.
It gives me a unique double perspective on life, which is glorious.
*Author’s Note: “A Life of Double Vision: Ghost Images Hover Over Solid Images” is part 4 of a 4-part series. To read parts 1, 2, and 3, click below:
Bonni Brodnick is the author of POUND RIDGE PAST, a contributor to HuffPost and Medium, and a former editorial staffer at Condé Nast Glamour and House & Garden. She has written scripts for Children’s Television Workshop, was a weekly newspaper columnist, and editor of two academic mags. Bonni is a member of Pound Ridge Authors Society and has a blog (bonnibrodnick.com). She is also a proud Stroke Survivor.
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