Blessed. Grateful. Awestruck (Part 1)
[I apologize for my delay in posting. March has ended up as my health month with lots of appointments, tests, and procedures as I make sure I maintain my temple. The winner (chosen at random.org) of last week’s review copy of The Caregiver’s Notebook is Tiffany! Congratulations, and I’ll make sure to get the book out to you soon.]
Blessed. Grateful. Awestruck. Those are the words embossed on the thin brass clasp bracelet I wear on my wrist. I wear it every day because these words describe the way I want to live.
A few months ago, I knew I had to do something about my vision. The small cataract my optometrist had observed in my left (weakest) eye more than a year earlier eye had grown to the point that I could no longer wear my contacts. I knew I was depending almost completely on my right eye.
We all need to see. But as someone who works with words and spends a great deal of time dealing with visual detail, my eyes are extra-important to me. And I’ve had serious vision problems since early elementary school.
Ever since I got my first pair of (even then) thick glasses in second grade, I’ve been grateful to live in an era where vision can be corrected. I would read Bible stories about “the man born blind” and recognize that, had I lived in that era, I might have ended up begging on the street. I can’t say I loved my glasses or contacts, but I loved being able to see.
And as of late last year, I couldn’t see much—not with my right eye, anyway. When I first visited Dr. Joel Hunter’s office this February, I had to say “I can see the screen” more than once during the vision test. And by that, I meant the screen was all I could see. No chart, no big letter E, nothing.
“Well, you’re not faking it,” was the first thing Dr. Hunter said to me. (Exactly how do you fake a cataract, anyway?) He explained that the cataract on my left eye was a rare type and, if I waited for the surgery, it would worsen just as much in the next few months as it had in the past few.
He and his staff did a great job of explaining the options. My eyes didn’t make me a candidate for the top level of surgery. But I could have chosen laser-assisted, or “precision” surgery had I wanted to pay almost $2000 per eye, the amount my insurance wouldn’t have covered. That would have brought my vision closer to perfection. But with three children in college/training school along with a mortgage and other family needs, I couldn’t justify the additional expense. After consulting with my husband, I settled for the “regular” surgery—and only a little inward sigh about how nice it would be to see perfectly.
(Join me on Friday for Part 2 of this story!)
Do you have chronic vision problems? Perhaps yours are much worse than mine. I’d love to pray for you. Leave a comment here or on other social media, and I’ll be sure to pay attention.