Pine Beetles and Trifocals

I got my first glasses in 5th Grade. I probably needed them before then, but didn't realize it. I just moved closer and closer to the front of the classroom so I could see what the teacher was writing on the chalkboard. (Yes, they used real chalk back then.)

But despite the glasses (or perhaps because of them), my vision continued to deteriorate, and by the time I graduated college, I had myopia of truly Magooian proportions. (I even latched onto Fearless Fly's tag line, "My glasses...without them, I'm helpless!)

Early in my Martin Marietta career, though, I learned that our insurance plan would pay for a new opto-medical procedure called "radial keratotomy (RK)". No copay or anything. The doctors charged about $2000 an eye, but the insurance company hadn't yet reclassified it as a "cosmetic" (and therefore, elective) surgery yet, so they were willing to foot the bill. Rumor had it, though, that such reclassification was coming, and if you wanted to get it done for free, you had to act fast.

You don't mess with your eyes lightly, though, so I did my research. Sure, there were a few stories of unsuccessful surgeries, but the research into vision enhancement was proceeding at a phenomenal pace, so I figured that even if they weren't 100% successful, they'd be able to fix it with some new procedure in fairly short order. I went for it.

This is not lasik, folks. No high technology here. They just give you some drugs, strap you down in a chair and tell you to hold still while they carve on your cornea with an X-Acto knife.

OK, that's a slight exaggeration. They didn't just tell you to hold still -- they actually had a little device that they clamped onto your eyeball to hold it still, whether you wanted it to or not. And it wasn't a drugstore X-Acto knife, it was a super-special, $2000/eye Precision X-Acto knife. And the doctor looked through some big ol' magnifier goggles so he could precisely control his slicing.

I just hoped he didn't sneeze, like my dad did that one time when giving me a haircut. [I was going for a very stylish Beatle/Spock cut, but ended up with a shaver-wide chunk hacked out, right above my left eyebrow, ruining the effect. I wouldn't have minded the haircut glitch all that much, since you're always willing to sacrifice a little style in exchange for the convenience and bonding time of having your old man do the honors...but there was only about one week until Senior Yearbook Picture Day. I did not want to have an obvious forehead divot for the one photo that all my classmates would remember me by. Fortunately, there was enough hair left that we were able to close most of the gap with Brylcreem and Elmer's glue, so by photo time, I had moved from Super-Dork status to Garden Variety Dork, which was good enough for me. But I digress...]

I assumed that they trained you in eyeball-carving school to recognize the early signs of a sneeze and to put down the knife if you had to let one fly. My doctor had a good reputation, and seemed to know what he was doing, so I took the pills they offered and climbed into the chair.

I was wide awake for the entire experience, and remember every bit of it. And while I wouldn't recommend trying to function in daily life under the influence of a Valium/Demerol cocktail, it is just the thing to mellow you out when that X-Acto blade begins to descend toward your visual receptors. In fact, I was a very docile and happy fellow for the rest of that entire day. I wandered around in my nifty new eye patch, singing pirate songs and talking to non-existent parakeet. Yo ho!

The procedure was mostly successful, taking me from the 20/200 prescription I came in with to a very acceptable 20/25. I no longer needed glasses!

The most amazing thing about my sudden vision improvement was that I suddenly started to hear better as well. It made me realize how important visual cues are when dechipering speech. It was most noticable in the swimming pool, where I never wore glasses. Before the surgery, I would have a hard time understanding people who spoke to me...or even being sure they were speaking to me -- but when I could see them as something more than an amorphous blob, I could understand what they were trying to say. Cool! Plus -- I could finally see the pace clock! Double cool!

Unfortunately, the surgery did not stop the flow of time...and my vision continued to decline a bit as I aged. And while the eye surgery sciences did indeed continue to improve (eg, lasik), the scar tissue on my cornea from the RK cuts disqualify me for additional procedures to get me back to where I was. No big deal, really, since my eyesight is still a zillion times better than it was before the RK, but it's tough to find the right prescription nowadays. You see, because of the RK scar tissue, my eyes tend to flex and change shape during the day, making my lens prescription a moving target. My eye doctor has done the best he can, giving me a wide range of prescriptions in a "Varilux" lens, which is essential a set of trifocal glasses without the dividing lines between the zones on the glass. What this means is that I can focus on different distances by moving my head up and down.

So what does this have to do with pine beetles, you ask? Well, I went for a long bike ride on Saturday morning, and because of the way I had to tilt my head to see the road at that hour in the morning, I twanged something within the nerves running down my neck. And to make it worse, I spent Saturday afternoon driving my car up to my property in Park County, and, you guessed it...driving with a twanged nerve in your neck is never a good thing. I was really sore and stiff by the time I got home.

Oh, yeah...the beetles. That's why I went up into the mountains. I wanted to check on my property to see how much danger my trees were in. The beetle infestation is supposedly moving into that part of the state, and I couldn't remember how many of my trees are the susceptible lodgepole pines. So I decided to drive up to take a look. The good news is that I have very few (if any) lodgepoles, and both the evergreens and the aspens on the property all appear to be in pretty good shape. It was a beautiful day, an enjoyable drive, and an excellent opportunity to have dinner at the Giant Hot Dog in Bailey. Yum!

The other good news is that with a few days rest, I'm sure my neck will be just fine. And despite the fact that I wear trifocals like some broken-down ancient geezer, no amount of sneezing during a haircut can mess up the style I am currently wearing (sorry, Mr. Spock). I can still see the pace clock and understand swimming pool conversations without my glasses, too. So, as long as the beetles, wildfires, and Chuds stay off my property, life is very good indeed.

Have a great day!