It's hazy outside this morning, with mist filling up the crannies and the ends of streets, just the sort of weather that makes me want to go walking--slipping quietly along in silent shoes, ignoring the shivers inherent with January dawns. I only made it as far as the end of the driveway before the damp chill hit my bones. In a somewhat dignified manner, I picked up the paper, as if that had been my original goal anyway, and ran back into the house. There. Enough exercise until the sun comes out. I stepped back into the warm house, and the mist filled all the spaces where I had been as if in silent territorial conquest.
Usually, I see the fog as friendly, but this morning it reminded me of my husband's eyesight, or lack of it. This week he went to the ophthalmologist to address a rapidly deteriorating vision in his left eye. He was told that he had a cataract centered over his pupil in that eye, and another one in the right eye which was not over the pupil yet, but was headed in that direction. They are of the fastest growing variety and chances are that he will not be able to see much at all by the end of this year. In another lifetime, those words would have been laden with hopelessness. Today, there is a cure. In a simple ten minute surgery they can replace the lens with a man-made one and voila! You see again! Clearly now!
There are a few complications, however. Around ten years ago, my husband had LASIK, a laser procedure which reshapes the cornea. Before that surgery, his vision was 20-800, which is pretty bad. The surgery was like a miracle for him. With great joy, he shed the heavy glasses and gained some peripheral vision. Now the eye doctor needs to see those old records so he can adjust the new lens. (I don't really understand why he can't just measure what's there.) The problem lies with obtaining records, because the doctor who did his previous surgery has lived in several places since--one being the penitentiary. No amount of phone calls has brought us closer to the records, doubtlessly archived somewhere inside a filing cabinet in an ex-secretary's musty basement.
So we wait. His eyes are getting cloudy. How much mist will pour in before the sun breaks through?
13 comments:
I hope they can fix his vision. Thanks for sharing this beautiful piece.
We're praying for him. I hope Dad will be able to see his grandchildren for years and years to come.
Oh how frustrating this must be for you and your husband.
You all are in my prayers, how terrible that one's eyesight is in the hands of a Dr. that is so untrackable, and criminal.
Hope all is well with your husband. My prayers...
Arty? Not me!!
Beautifully written. You & your husband are both in my thoughts, hoping for the best.
Wishing you well! Amazing how incompetent our record keeping has become. I hope you can find the information you need, posthaste!
I hope the lack of records doesn't hold your husband back and is an albeit significant but surmountable issue.
He will be in my thoughts.
Very moving. I read it twice - it was so tenderly written
Beautifully written, your first paragraph was stunning! Is there any chance of a second opinion? Many best wishes that everything goes well for you both!
We are going to schedule the surgery anyway. The eye clinic has tried without avail to find the records, and we have called every number we had. We actually talked to the surgeon who worked with the LASIK doctor, but he doesn't know what happened to them either. We are treading relatively new ground here because the cornea patients are just beginning to reach the age where most cataracs develop. We don't have a choice. He needs to see.
A clever link up there. Here's hoping the records turn up and his sight is fully restored.
the photo is beautiful... and your first paragraph describes it well... or is it the photo describes your story well.. hmm.. glad to hear you are continuing on regardless of the records... i pray he will soon see all there is to see...
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