Soon after we got home from the hospital, a nurse from our congregation phoned to make a suggestion. Back when she was a beginning nurse (or maybe even still in school?) this woman had worked on a floor for children with scoliosis. At that time, treatment for scoliosis consisted of requiring the children to lie flat on their backs for six months, can you even imagine?! These kids were given special glasses—prism glasses—so they could read books that rested on their stomachs while still lying flat on their backs.
“You might want to check them out for your son,” she said.
The glasses sounded like a joke. Prism glasses? I imagined frames with sun catchers in place of the lenses. How in the world could a person read through those?
But then I looked them up, and I was like, Oh yeah, mirrors. I ordered a pair straightaway, but I kept my expectations low. The glasses sounded gimmicky—they didn't cost that much—and I doubted they'd work all that well.
Turns out, the glasses are amazing. You really can stare straight ahead and clearly read whatever it is you're holding in your lap!
My son uses them all the time. I'll walk into his room to find him flat on his back, his laptop balanced on his clamshell belly, watching a movie or studying his EMT text while staring up at the ceiling. It's wild.
Prism glasses...who would've thunk it? (And why didn't they tell us about these at the hospital?)
This same time, years previous: the quotidian (5.11.15), one more thing, lemony spinach and rice salad with fresh dill and feta, hummus, and the mother of his children.