The scariest time in my life was when I could see. Well, I say see but maybe I mean see more. OK, so maybe the right term is that I could see something in a little bit of focus. Thinking about it, focus is such a strong word to use here. Sorry am I confusing you? Let me start at the beginning.
There I was sitting in the ophthalmologist’s office nine months after having a cataract operation that did more harm than good but c’est la vie. “The thing is, although it is quite fun walking around like I am looking through a distorted version of Funhouse mirrors, I cannot carry on like this. The lack of depth perception is causing me more injuries than before and looking at out of proportion objects is pretty scary if I am honest” I joked with the blurry stretched man in front of me. He abruptly
answered “we need to give it more time”. “Nine months is enough time, I want it removed” I answered matching his tone.
This stubborn standoff had been going on since I had my cataract operation 9 months earlier and it was long overdue to be resolved. Since this alien object had been placed in my eye, nothing but tantrums and melt-downs had happened in the ocular area with post-operative inflammation and Edema on the retina being the main instigators of the uprising in my eye. I was now requesting an eviction notice to these angry duo as I could no longer deal with their nonsense. So here I was pleading with this nine-foot-tall, egg timer shaped blur in front of me in the hospital room who sat on the rugby ball shaped fuzzy chair. Daily entry into the Funhouse of mirrors really needed to be a thing of the past.
My mule like pig-headedness paid off and I was back in the operating theatre removing the mischievous lens that they had implanted, and I was left lens free and back to being able to live my normal double vision, fuzzy life that I always felt safe in. It seemed that everyone around me felt sorry for me that I was becoming “broken” again after the operation was not able to help me, but I felt a different way about it. I had never felt broken before due to my sight loss, it was just normal. Medical staff and everyone around me seemed to be tempting me into the world of the sighted to “fix” the way that I had been since birth.
When I entered the semi sighted world for that brief amount of time however, life was far from rosy.
I went from seeing birds as gargantuan shape shifters instead of mythical creature that I had never seen, to not being able to reach out to an object in front of me due to the immense difference in depth perceptions in both eyes. Vague faces became things that I could kind of make out but didn’t always match my version of them that I had been carrying around in my head for years. I noticed myself judging things in other people that I had no right to judge, as I began using my eyes alone to absorb my environment and ignored my other senses. I knew that this was not the world that the fully sighted saw as everything was out of proportion and seemed to be the wobbly bridge between the sighted and sight loss world. I was so relieved when I got off this wobbly bridge and returned to the sight loss world with less sight but more confidence.
Seeing the beauty in life cannot be seen through the eyes alone but they can be a magical tool in appreciating the world around us. My time in the Funhouse of mirrors taught me many things and I am glad I had a chance to play around in it for a while. There is always a light-hearted view available in uncertain times of transition if you search hard enough.