I lost partial vision in my right eye 30 years ago, and now my left eye is in jeopardy. And that’s unsettling because I love reading and writing and can’t imagine life without eyesight. I’m counting on my left eye.
This week during a post-cataract-surgery follow-up, my ophthalmologist detected abrasions on my cornea, the “windshield” of the eye.
As it turns out you have a genetic condition that makes your cornea highly susceptible to abrasions.
(I knew it! I just knew it! I’M GOING BLIND.)
This is concerning, but it’s treatable.
(Let me pause here to bless all medical professionals. This was not his first rodeo.)
I’d never heard of a “bandage contact,” but I now have one in my left eye. It protects the fragile cornea while the abrasions heal.
(Let me pause here to praise those who invented prosthetics—artificial lenses, legs, arms, knees, hips, and bandage contacts.)
Thirty years ago I noticed that words seemed to wiggle when I was reading. My optometrist took one look and sent me to an ophthalmologist in Winchester, who took one look and said:
You have a condition that makes your right retina seep blood. It must be cauterized!
Is it a disease?
No, it’s not like macular degeneration. It’s an ailment. It’s ocular histoplasmosis caused by airborne fungal spores found in bird and bat droppings, including the droppings of pigeons and chickens. Once inside the body, the spores transform into yeast and can linger latently for years before attacking tissues.
(Let me pause here to curse pigeons and chickens. We had a chicken coop in our backyard when I was a child.)
When should I get this done?
Today.
And what will that do, exactly?
It will stop the bleeding instantly. Only a few cells will be destroyed. But because the bleeding is dead center, you’ll basically be blind in your right eye. No more central vision.
For how long?
The rest of your life.
(Rest. Of. Your. Life.)
Sorry. I’m not mentally prepared for that. I’d like to inform my congregation on Sunday and invite their prayers first.
That’s fine. But it won’t make a difference.
I told my congregation. After the service, parishioners squeezed my hand, looked me in the eyes, and gently patted me on the back.
God bless. Good luck. We’re in your corner.
Prayer didn’t stop the bleeding, but it did make a difference.
We live in such a noisy, fast-paced world, we often forget the miracles of medicine and science. Here’s a prayer of gratitude for the life-saving work people in those fields do everyday. Many of us wouldn’t be here or have the quality of life we do without their skills, diligence, and care. Thanks for reminding us what a blessing it is to have access to their amazing contributions.
As a person who has survived cancer three times and had a knee replacement, I am grateful for those medical professionals and inventors. Likewise, my wife has had a hip replacement. Gratitude goes a long way. Diana Butler Bass has written a book entitled Grateful: The Transformative Power of Giving Thanks. That title says it all.
Some things are better. Thanks for the reminder.
You’re doing all you can do. If there’s anyone I know who can push back on blindness or anything else for that matter, it’s you. Too many others would’ve already given up. One of the things I admire about you is there’s no “quit” in your vocabulary. As I’ve learned, a little prayer and caring has come a long way to help us. We just need to be open to it. Walk on. That’s what we’re here for. Yes. Seek out the quiet places. These actually speak the loudest if we can stop long enough to hear them. Onward!
and knowing you are not walking alone IS so very important.
A year before Covid hit the world I got an adnovirus in my right eye. It was right before Christmas so I went to urgent care and they prescribed an antibiotic drop as if it was pink eye but the doctor did comment that it didn’t present like normal pink eye. It didn’t get better so after New Years I was in the emergency room getting intravenous antibiotics because they thought it was cellulitis behind my eye. Fortunately, they did have me see an ophthalmologist that day.
Doctor Quam was nervous about disagreeing with the emergency room docs but correctly diagnosed it as an adnovirus not an infection so I was prescribed a steroidal drop and had to see him every day. After two weeks it was getting better so he finally gave me the skinny…he said you know how about .5% of flu cases end in death every year…that is what is going on in your eye. I of course panicked and asked if I could go blind and he said yes. Long story short I have a cataract in my right eye that doesn’t allow 20 20 vision so I too am relying on my left eye.
I will be able to reverse the damage at some point but apparently it isn’t a good idea to remove a cataract too soon. I’m too young and the fix might not last? There was a blessing though as this all started with my dad in his care home…he was visiting my stepmother in the nursing unit every day and he managed to spread it in both wings of the home. This virus can lay dormant for several weeks thus I carried it home after a visit to Iowa. I never saw dad when he had it. They had to call in the CDC so just one year before Covid they revamped all of there protocols regarding cleaning surfaces etc. There were no Covid cases in that care home at all until after the vaccine was released to the public.
Wow to all the instances in this post!
Just Wow Karen! I’m grateful for so many things about your truth here.
I so love your honesty – sharing your human thots & concerns as you move forward with faith, trust & confidence in those trained to care, to fix, to heal, to explain in those traumatic moments of our imperfect bodies meeting mysterious maladies that come in microscopic form. What a blessing to live when knowledge & compassion carry us on, together, with wings of grace! Our senses are a daily gift…thank you for your story (& that reminder).
Well, Holy Batshit! I’m glad for your bandage contact and wish you speedy abrasion healing. I’m also glad that your ophthalmologist is experienced and that you are not his first rodeo. Bernard reads to me, not because I’m blind but because his hearing loss makes it difficult for him to follow if someone else is reading aloud. We read most evenings after dinner. If you need him, just call.
Whenever I have to go to see a doctor, which I do not like to have to do, I remind myself how fortunate I am to have medical professionals and options because I have insurance that is still making it possible for me to afford care within an easy driving distance. Your post reminds me to be thankful for all the medical staff who help me and for the inventors who create the equipment that can lead to repair, healing, and continuing to live as fully as possible. We are in the decades of many physical challenges. Prayer does make a difference even when we don’t have the results we hoped for. In the mid-1960s, a phrase that became popular in songs and speeches was “Keep on keeping on.” You definitely have the spirit stirred in that phrase.
Oozing gratitude for your unique ability to “see” beyond physical eyesight and write compassionately about our collective human condition in so few words. Flowing gratitude that your excellent opthalmologist is beside you on this journey, this “vision quest,” as it were. Yes, all loving-kindness, via both medical skill and the prayers, meditations, thoughts, and love-touch from those with whom we share our lives, make enduring “difference.” Thank you, and your readers, for the difference you make in mine.
We have made friends hear at Buckingham’s Choice with a great guy, Steve Matthews. He is 88. He has Retinitis Pigmentosa. This is a congenital disease which gets progressively worse over time. He became Legally Blind about 15 years ago and is essentially blind now. He does amazingly well here, with very little assistance from others. It makes me feel totally grateful for the limited sight I have … a world of difference.
I have known you since high school- and know that if anyone has the character and resilience to life’s obstacles, it is you my friend.
I lost my eyesight temporarily from cataracts after I retired at 62 before Medicare kicked in. It was terrifying. Im so sorry you’re going through this old age shit. Three hernia operations. Two titanium knees and rods in my right arm. Fatigue has really surprised me. You bless us any way despite your troubles. For that, we are all grateful.