Cataract: 1. a large waterfall 2. a medical condition in which the lens of the eye becomes progressively opaque, resulting in blurred vision.
Had the ‘waterfall’ in my right eye removed on monday, 17 July with surgery done on West 23rd Street, 7th floor.
The white paper on which I’m writing today (two days after the operation) is whiter than anything I’ve become used to seeing. I return to my mother’s kitchen in my childhood: there were comparable whites on the table, in the sink, on the shelves. And those whites of paper and porcelain and enamel contained a promise which this white paper today recalls.
Let’s be clear about the implication of what I’m saying. Clearly, during many decades after my childhood, I saw sheets of white paper as white as this one. But gradually the whiteness dimmed. And this afternoon what’s happened is not that I realize this with my intelligence, but that the whiteness of the paper rushes toward my eyes, and my eyes embrace the whiteness like a long lost friend.[From – ‘Cataract’ by John Berger with drawings by Selçuk Demirel – www.nottinghilleditions.com*]
My sister led me out of the o.r. after the surgery, then into a taxi. There was a covering over my right eye. It was eerie to need to hang onto someone that much to get in and out of a taxi, up my elevator. I did not like it but my sister made it as painless as possible.
I needed two Advil’s in the night.
On 18 July, a tuesday, I began the aftercare: Ciprofloxacin hydrochloride-solution/drops 0.3%. 3 times a day. Shake well. Prednisolone acetate ophthalmic suspension 1%. One drop in operated eye 4 times a day. Shake well. Bromisite ophthalmic solution 0.075%. Use one drop in operated eye once a day. Shake well. ALL DROPS 5 MINUTES APART.
Not hard to keep them straight. But … forget to shake well.
Doctor, my eyes have seen the years
And the slow parade of fears without crying
Now I want to understand
I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good without hiding
You must help me if you can
Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what is wrong
Was I unwise to leave them open for so long
‘Cause I have wandered through this world
And as each moment has unfurled
I’ve been waiting to awaken from these dreams
People go just where they will
I never noticed them until I got this feeling
That it’s later than it seems
Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what you see
I hear their cries
Just say if it’s too late for me
Doctor, my eyes
Cannot see the sky
Is this the prize
For having learned how not to cry
Very good essay, worthy of being printed in the NY Times. It would encourage folks to get it done and enjoy the blessings.
Nice poem too. Exactly, that’s how we feel. There is beauty and there is loss, guilt and not good enough, a wide field … The doctor’s answer would probably be that all you need to do is multiply issues by x, feel connected and part of the universe.
Oh Leslie! You always make me blush. Thanks for your high praise.
A Whiter Shade of Pale and Jackson Browne to boot. Here’s to August 8 and a white light that encompasses you in its beauty. What a lovely piece you wrote.
A million thanks for your comment.