Kinsler: The eye is the window of the soul, and mine are both better now
Family legend has it that I, M Kinsler, was an early reader. My mother recalled being appalled at my comprehensive discussion of a particularly gory murder meticulously detailed on Page One of the Cleveland Plain Dealer (journalism was more colorful then,) and that children should be given more appropriate reading material Then she took another look: the child in question wore gray Sears trap-door pajamas, was seated in his high chair with a bowl of Kix and was pushing 3. Suspicion immediately fell upon my sister Miriam, two years my senior and recently enrolled in Mrs. Backer’s first grade class, where you learned nothing but reading. Miriam loved to teach me things, some of which were more constructive than others.
I was a good, steady reader in the intervening 72 years, right up until yesterday when I had my second cataract surgery The first operation (right eye) went well, and I could read through my left eye fairly well, albeit at the cost of a headache. But today’s exercise corrected that left eye, and there aren’t any spares. I can certainly see, but it’s painful and blurry and useful up to four feet.
My heart goes out to those who dream of achieving my current horrid level of vision, but I was raised in a wealthy suburb and we like to whine. Currently my feeble visual aids include a 250% zoom in Microsoft Word, a pair of groping arms to prevent collisions with walls (but not tables or cats,) and my sainted mother’s Bausch and Lomb magnifying glass, heavy but distortion-free. It works well for books until fatigue sets in, a condition I can identify when I find myself attempting to balance Bausch and Lomb on my nose. (I’m currently plowing my way through "The Black Death," a cheery discussion of England in the 1300’s.)
The post-operative instructions promise that I shall receive due notice when it is permissible to drive once more and lift more than five pounds. All that’s required of me is a regimen of eye drops and an eye wash warranted to eliminate eye mites, and I am not making these up. Be sure to look up the detailed illustrations of eye mites, which would fascinate a ten-year-old boy.
“I seem to be invalid,” said I to my short, beleaguered spouse.
“You sure are,” she replied. “I still love you. And I’m going to bed.”
Mark Kinsler, kinsler33@gmail.com, should gain greatly improved vision in maybe a week. The doctor is pleased. In the meantime he shall continue to stumble over Natalie and the two cats.
This article originally appeared on Lancaster Eagle-Gazette: Kinsler: The eye is the window of the soul, and mine are both better now
