The Eye of the Beholder

It is a summer afternoon in the late 70s. I’m kneeling on the wooden floor of an attic helping my grandfather extend the plywood floor across more of the ceiling joists in order to gain some additional storage space. We finished for the day and began to stand in the cramped space available. I, a boy of 12, quickly stand straight up, my head just barely missing the roofing nails protruding through the ceiling. My grandfather slowly works his way up into a crouched position and reaches out a hand for my arm to steady himself as he cautiously works his way out of the corner. He looks me in the eye and says, “Whatever you do Mike, don’t get old.”

I wish I could have heeded his advice. Now as I approach the age that he was back then, I’m the one moving slowly, grunting as I sit or stand, and looking for things to steady my stance. I can’t say I mind much. My hands still work fine and what arthritis I have tends to serve as a reminder of of the value of hard work. But recently I’ve been dealt a cruel hand that has changed everything. About a year and a half ago, my eye doctor said that I had a small cataract forming in my right eye. It would be years before it became a problem so we would just track it. His prediction was very optimistic, and completely wrong.

I created the image above to give some sense of what I’ve been dealing with for the past 6 months or so. When I look out my left eye, I see the image on the left. Basically I have my normal vision. But if I close my left eye, and rely on my dominate right eye, I see the image on the right. It is as if someone is holding a sheet of tissue paper in front of my eye! It literally developed overnight. I woke up one morning and just could not see from the right eye. Apparently the frequent high doses of prednisone that got me through an aggressive (and thankfully successful) chemotherapy regimen made this accelerated cataract growth possible.

The good news is that this can be fixed by a very simple and safe surgical procedure. They basically pluck out the old lens and put in a new one. My vision will be better than it has been in a very long time. That will happen in about a month, and I can’t wait. But in the mean time, I have been humbled by just how much I rely on my right eye. Obviously, my depth perception is close to zero. My Optivisor still works, but the extra magnification loop over the right eye is useless. And even reading has become a challenge. It is taking me much longer to read and comprehend than I remember. The letters just won’t come into focus. And if I close my right eye, I can see better, but it just seems wrong somehow and I can’t read at all. Podcasts have become my favorite form of entertainment as my ears still work fine (knock wood). And if I use a silly sized font, I can still write. That’s a blessing as I practically write for a living.

So if you are a young wippersnapper that still has time, I invite you to seriously consider my grandfather’s advice. And if you, like me have already crossed the Rubicon of years, be thankful for what you have. After all, there really isn’t much of an alternative 😉