When I went into eye surgery two weeks ago for a new lens, I expected that my far vision would improve, night driving would be easier, and that the sun wouldn’t bother me as much. I did not know that I would be blind in one eye for a day, that my eye will never be as strong as it was before, that I can’t ever rub my eye again. Temporarily I can’t wear make-up, dye my hair (the horror, the horror), cut wool sweaters nor work in the shop for a week, nor can I get any water in my eye during a shower (picture me in a snorkel mask). Plus the back of the lens capsule tore and because of the tear, Dr. Bustos put the new lens in front of where they usually put new lenses. Now there is the possibility of less acuity than if it was in the right place.
You absolutely cannot predict the way things turn out. You try for the best choice you can make and then things happens the way they happen. Maybe I will have a super eye, but right now, its like looking through a milky screen (much better now, its been two weeks), the colors are not quite right out there in the world (I’ve since learned that I am now seeing true colors from the new lens and that my other eye, which also has a cataract, is seeing incorrectly), and light flashes weirdly at the edges of something as I read. I see that once again I am dealing with the effects of having a body, an imperfect shell which holds my soul. I have been here before, healing from a torn and replaced ACL, twisted ankles, carpal tunnel surgery, gum surgeries, a hysterectomy, a femoral osteotomy, a femoral osteotomy repair, trigeminal neuralgia, cancer treatment, small intestine damage, arthritis. My body is a super repair machine, but right now I am feeling frustrated, kind of rubbery and out of shape.
Upon reflection, I realize that I trust my life because of all this, I know I can cope with whatever happens to me, inside or outside of my body. I’m pretty good at being disabled, its not that bad. Acceptance feels good, I’ve developed an inner spaciousness that contains both the pretty good and the pretty bad. I have lived with and through pain and I have strategies to deal with it. I’m still here and I love my life.