I’ve been overly focused on my eyes lately. On seeing. On not seeing.
Late this past April my retina tore. Surgery followed and my vision was regained–mostly. My right pupil remains dilated, which is normal–up to a point. It may still recover. It may not. I’m nearing the border between optimism and realism on that front.
The retinal surgery is traumatic to the eye, and kickstarts cataract growth. While planning for that next surgery to my right eye, the doctor discovered I was overachieving–having naturally created another less severe but surgery-qualifying cataract in my left eye.
The right eye surgery wasn’t debatable, and I had that completed a few weeks ago. At my follow up appointment, I was unsure if I wanted to have the left eye done, though I had, at the doctor’s suggestion, already scheduled it for the following week. “You can always cancel it,” he’d told me.
I debated the pros and cons with the tech for quite some time. Finally, she handed me a pad of paper.
“Close your left eye and look at this,” she said.
I did.
“What color is it?”
“White,” I said.
“Ok, now close your right eye and look at it,” she said. “What color is it?”
My jaw dropped. “Whoa! It’s sepia!” I said.
I suddenly saw what I hadn’t even known I was seeing. Or not seeing.
So, the following week I had the second cataract surgery on my left eye.
A few days after that, my husband called me to the window. “Look at all the blue jays!” he said. “I’ve never seen so many together!”
I looked out the window at a dozen or more jays crowding the feeder, scattered across the lawn, and breaking off to fly up into the nearby trees. “Wow! They are so blue right now!” I said, wondering about the afternoon light and how it was creating that impression. Until I realized it wasn’t just the light, it was my “restored” vision. I sat for long moments drinking in the vibrant blues.
These days I perch on the edge of returning to school and its relentless pace, and I am also more and more aware that I am nearing the far edge of middle age. I ponder what I see in this world. And in my life. And the choices I have made and will make. I wonder what I haven’t seen. What blocks me from seeing. What I’m missing.
I keep wondering how I didn’t know what I wasn’t seeing. I imagine that the change was gradual, so I simply didn’t notice it. But it makes me think about how often we miss things with unintentional, unacknowledged blindness. About how changing a lens can make all the difference in the world.
Nix the comfort zone 
Were you listening on my conversation at lunch yesterday? I was having this same conversation with a friend going to get new glasses, sharing she wasn’t sure what she hasn’t been seeing. Your post reminds me that we are so blessed with vision to see things in the colors they are. I’m glad you are able to find joy in the bluest of jays. Your great eye for photography rejoices in the wonders of color.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve been struck over and over again by how vibrant colors are now. It does make me wonder in a larger sense, how much we unconsciously miss.
LikeLike
I had my cataract surgery in May of ‘23. I remember being amazed by the color green. There are so many wonderful contrasts in that color. My mother told me after her surgery, it was water. She had stopped seeing water. It is overwhelming to lose something that we take for granted, but I’m glad you made the decision to have the surgery. Seeing those blue jays were worth it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s so interesting to hear about other peoples’ experiences!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m so sorry about your retina. I live in fear of mine detaching and went to see my optometrist a couple weeks ago to check on both retinas because of possible med side effects. Your bluejay photo is gorgeous. I’m glad the cataract surgery has been a success.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I understand that fear well. Apparently, now that I’ve had one retinal tear (not detachment, thankfully), I’m more at risk to have another one. Ugh. I’m glad you had a positive check up with your optometrist and hope you avoid the issue entirely!
LikeLiked by 1 person
So pleased to hear about your successful cataract surgery and the blues and no doubt greens and purples returning to your daily life. Your experience is another good reminder to value each and every day. And not wait! Hannah and I will go to California in the winter as long as we can and then rock on our front deck with no regrets on the travel front.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You and Hannah are an inspiration!
LikeLike
I am happy your surgeries and recovery have gone well. It is a bit nerve racking when we think of someone “messing” with our eyes. But what I enjoyed most is your allegorical narration. As we age, our vision of life changes; perhaps, the details become more distinct and simple, more straightforward. Thanks for giving me thoughts to ponder.
LikeLiked by 2 people
That’s what’s stuck with me most about this whole experience, Alice, so I’m glad that came through for you.
LikeLike
You r journey to better vision has been a very challenging one and a reminder of the value of our eyes to help us perceive both the small and the large images and themes of our world. The whole cataract and color piece was a new idea for me as well and I value my eyes like never before
LikeLiked by 1 person
I still have some issues, but they are relatively minor. I’m so thankful for all the I can see…and that I have medical insurance, paid leave, access to medical care etc. etc.
LikeLike
Oof. That last statement. Big Truth.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Molly, I appreciate your sharing – & only you could write this out in such lyrical prose – a stange scary, success journey. Your blog postings have seemed to me to keep flowing & beautifully, uninterrupted, so I don’t know how you managed that magic. And this is so deep -you take your personal path regarding sight & apply it to the wider world. A ponder, I want to ponder. More thanks.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Jan. The whole experience has given me a lot to think about.
LikeLike
You’re so right, Molly. We don’t know what we’re not seeing until we see it. xo
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve been struck over and over by this thought during recent months–both literally and metaphorically. How can you “open your eyes” to what you don’t know that you don’t see?
LikeLike