You never really appreciate something until you lose it. Well…I’ve finally lost it. Now, for some readers out there, this is not news. And no, what I’ve lost has nothing to do with my mental capacity … perhaps another surprising acknowledgment on my part. This loss has affected every part of my every day and possibly every day from this point forward.
I’m not alone
It seems countless others out there have lost or are in the process of losing the same thing. What has been lost? Well, Dear Reader, you’ll see that at the end of this story. Here’s the beginning.
While growing up a long, long time ago on that old familiar street not so long away called Flamingo, my parents shared many things about life trying to pave our path forward and make it easier. I listened to what they said, most of the time, and filed it away for later use. But there was one statement they repeated at least once a week that I wished never to hear again – mostly because I didn’t understand.
Now, I do
“If you have good health, you have everything. If you don’t, it doesn’t matter if you have all the money in the world, you have nothing.” Back in The Then, if given such a choice, I would’ve taken the money. If asked in The Now, I’d tell you to keep the money; just give me back my health. And that’s the situation we find ourselves in currently.
Seeing is believing
It seems my past has finally caught up with me. A childhood filled with snowballs, dirt clods and even a rock or two in the eyes from Down the Street Bully Brad and his gang of three plus finger pokes from my brothers doesn’t fare well for healthy eyesight in later years. Add to those youthful eye injuries all the soot and debris that twenty-eight years as a firefighter exposed me to — it’s a wonder I can see anything at all.
A reality check
Back on Flamingo, the pain from being hit in the eye by one of Bully Brad’s dirt clods was immediate. In contrast, the loss of sight due to cataracts is a gradual process that happens over years. On a recent trip, The Wife asked me to read the upcoming road sign over the highway. I couldn’t until it was too late.
We missed our exit.
After telling her I’d been having lots of trouble with reading and that things were blurry and seemed to be getting worse, she suggested I go see an eye doctor. Lucky for me, one of my childhood friends is an eye doctor. And no, it’s not Goofy Steve.
Diagnosis
After seeing the eye doctor the next day, I came home and told The Wife what he had said. “It seems I have rather bad cataracts in my right eye. The left eye isn’t much better. He made an appointment with an excellent doctor he knows to do the surgery. No worries. It’s a simple procedure.”
The Wife said with concern, “Your eyesight is important. We need to get it taken care of.”
“I know. But I always thought that only ‘old people’ were the ones to get surgery for cataracts.”
The Wife responded, “Have you had hip surgery?”
“Yes.”
“Shoulder surgery?”
“Four times.”
“Joint replacement?”
“Once.”
The Wife smiled and said, “Hate to break it to you, Honey. You’re old.”
I see her point or as much as I can with cataracts. My surgery is set for the end of this month, and the doctor said my vision should immediately improve by fifty percent and keep getting better with each passing day. I asked him how much better it would be by Christmas.
“You’ll be able to see as good as you did when you were a kid.”
Seeing as well as I did back on Flamingo by Christmas? Now that’s really good news. Just in time for the annual winter snowball battle with the Girly Girls. Being able to see clearly out of both eyes, I bet I’ll win this year.
[Rick Ryckeley has been writing stories weekly in The Citizen since 2001.]
