As Far as the Eye Can See by Janie DeVos

                               

     I got my left cataract removed this week, thus I’m writing in huge font because I have to keep one eye closed in order to see the computer screen.  The light is killing my newly cleared eye, and I feel unbalanced, like I just “fed my head” in Alice’s Wonderland. 

I have now officially turned into my grandmother.  I remember when she had hers removed many years ago and she seemed so old to be needing that done.  I think we can all picture some ancient-looking person with milky-colored eyes, begging in the street in some epic movie set in the Middle Ages.  And the thought that that “ancient person” isn’t too far off from being me now is a tad unsettling.  (If this Halloween, I’m seen walking the streets complete with shawl, cane, and beggar’s cup, don’t be so certain it’s a costume, my friends.  Things may not have gone quite as planned.)  

I had a book club presentation this week and, as usual, one of the women asked what I was working on.  I told her it was Wednesdays at the Wabash Diner, but that Wednesdays had turned into Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, simply because it’s become so hard to see with these stupid cataracts that I’ve pretty much had to put writing on hold. I told her that as soon as I could see again, I’d resume work on my manuscript, which I'm really looking forward to doing because right now my days consist of eye drops, depth perception mishaps, and eye doctor appointments.  

But don’t get me wrong. I’m exceedingly grateful that there are fine doctors who are skilled enough to perform this kind of surgery, and I’m particularly grateful that very soon, when I see someone in the grocery store, I won’t stare at that person like I’ve never seen them before only to have to explain to him or her once they move closer to me that I simply can’t make out a single facial feature if said person is more than ten feet away from me.  

So, until my next blog, I shall bid you adieu.  It’s eye drop time again.  I don’t mind it too much, though.  After all, I get to lie on the couch to administer them, and while there, I keep one eye open so that I can shop on QVC.  After all, I still need to look good as I’m falling apart, you know.