Sagging Muscles
Wed., July 9, 03:22 PM
Not what you think – I’m not talking about the muscles that just don’t quite work as well as they used to. You eat properly, you exercise, and maybe you can correct the sagging of your abs or pecs or whatever. But you can’t do a thing about the ciliary muscle in your eyes.
As I understand it, the ciliary muscle is what changes the shape of your eye’s lens so that you can focus on whatever it is you’re trying to see. As we mature, the lens becomes thicker and less flexible, so that the ciliary muscle is unable to bend it as much. After a while, close focusing becomes difficult; you buy a magnifying glass so you can read the box scores and make jokes about your arms being too short. Your doctor may prescribe reading glasses. The condition is called presbyopia, and it occurs – with slightly different effects – whether you are nearsighted or farsighted. People usually notice it in their mid-forties, and it gets progressively worse for about fifteen years. More people notice it now than a couple of generations ago because more people are readers.
I was mildly nearsighted and wore glasses from the time I was about fifteen years old. Mostly I needed them when I sat in the back of a classroom or when I was typing (prescribed typing posture is to sit up straight, with your copy about eighteen inches away). The only other time I needed my glasses a lot was when I was pregnant; if I brought a book close enough to read without glasses, the baby would kick it.
As I got older, the first change I noted was that I could see farther without my classes. The ophthalmologist laughed at me: “you can fool a lot of people, but you can’t fool your eye doctor.” A few years later he prescribed bifocals for me, and that first pair worked very well.
Generally, I’m just grateful that I can still read. I can look at a book or newspaper and manage to see what I need to see. I love that I can adjust the size of the text on a computer. And if the print is too small, I can usually manage with my glasses.
Except for crossword puzzles. The numbers within the boxes are so tiny that I need my glasses plus the time it takes to focus. That’s the problem, you see, it takes more time to tighten that ciliary muscle and focus. Once I focus on a book, I’m good for at least a few pages. But on a crossword puzzle (or crostics, which are similarly drawn), you focus on the definitions, which are farther away, and then on the diagram. When you’re going back and forth – and there’s that extra couple of seconds to focus each time – what used to be a delight is now a frustration. I know the answer, but I can’t see where to put it.
When the doctors said my oldest aunt had Alzheimer’s disease, her younger sister insisted it was more like depression. She had been a sharp lady who – among other things – taught me to do crosswords. If she couldn’t see – and she did eventually lose her eyesight completely – I’m not surprised that she withdrew from the world.
I’m not ready to do that yet; I think I’m going to take a few of those puzzles to the office and Xerox them at 150 percent!
