If the state of the medical art had been a year or two less advanced, at best I'd have a glass eye now.
I don't doubt it. I have one friend (a retired printer who used to docent at the Printing Museum with me) who's had a glass eye since childhood, and another I've known since childhood, who's worn an eyepatch ever since a rather nasty traffic accident.
I'm glad I'm just mildly nearsighted, with astigmatism and presbyopia (the one good thing about the presby is that I'm slightly less nearsighted than I used to be) and one or two floaters that are
at worst an annoyance.
I remember once, when I was much less squeamish* about eye procedures, asking my ophthalmologist if anything could be done about floaters. He explained that any attempt to do anything about floaters (beyond learning ways to drive them into my peripheral vision) would likely just breed more of them.
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* "Much less squamish" is a relative term: when Dr. Flynn tried to get an IOP reading with a contact tonometer, it became obvious that the only way he could get one would be to
let me faint, take the reading, and
then break out the ammonia. He opted to walk me across the hall to where he had his air tonometer (i.e., his pediatric room). A few years ago, I had an unknown black particle stuck to a sclera, that wouldn't flush out. The after-hours duty doctor at Kaiser managed to get it with a greased swab. It was all I could do to hold my head still; my legs were flailing wildly the whole time.
