Thursday morning, St. Patrick’s Day, I’ll go in for cataract surgery on my right eye. I’ll have an interocular lens implant, please. The whole thing is miraculous. I’ll be at the outpatient surgery center for about three hours, but the actual procedure only takes about fifteen minutes. Unbelievable.
A follow-up appointment on Friday morning, followed by a lazy weekend, will set me up for several days of learning to see again. I have realized in the past month, after being cleared for the surgery and having all my ducks in a row, how much my lifestyle — and my nervous system — has been compromised by the deterioration of my vision. I have been seeing the world through one functioning eye for some time now. How will binocular vision change my perceptions?
Although I feel a bit of natural apprehension, I am mostly excited, only a teeny bit scared. I anticipate vast improvements. So I’m prepared for the procedure. I’m not sure how to prepare for the aftermath.
Will I see filthy kitchen countertops and piles of cat fur in every corner? What have I missed in these last months? Will I perceive my wrinkles more clearly? Will my friends still be attractive, or will I be in shock and trying to justify our friendships based on their captivating personalities? What will I see about my life, my choices, my path, once I can see — really see — again?
Last round of eyedrops, day three, tonight before bed. Big glass of water, so I don’t wake up thirsty. Nothing by mouth after midnight, until after the surgery. I plan to ask for a cup of coffee as soon as we’re done. Then, I’ll wait for the fog to clear.
SEE YOU on the flipside!