Love Letter to Dr Zargar and My Newly Working Eyeballs

I need you to understand something: I was living my life at 60% capacity and didn't even realize it.Every morning started the same way, eyes crusted shut, lids feeling like they'd been marinating in chalk dust overnight, and that delightful sensation that someone had replaced my tear ducts with a dehumidifier. By 10 a.m., after exactly 30 minutes of screen time (which, as a writer and parent to twin girls, is basically my entire existence), my eyes would start their daily protest: burning, blurring, that gritty feeling like I'd been sandblasted by a very tiny, very aggressive beach.I'd blink aggressively. Rub them. Squint at my laptop like I was decoding ancient hieroglyphics. Buy every drugstore eye drop promising "relief" (spoiler: they did fuck-all). And then I'd just... continue. Because what else do you do? You're a functioning adult with children who need snacks and deadlines that don't care about your ocular discomfort.But here's the thing about living in constant low-grade misery: you start to think it's normal. You adapt. You power through. Until one day, you catch yourself literally unable to read an Exit sign without squinting, and you think, "Okay, this is actually insane."That's when I walked into Dr....