I am now seeing the brighter side to things these days. It isn’t so much as a philosophical outlook, but a physical one. You see, I have had my cataract removed in both my eyes.
These days when such surgeries are over in a blink of an eye this statement may not raise much eyebrows. But I have a different viewpoint about it. And it has more to do with my fear of surgeries and blood.
I had swooned soon after a rather harrowing experience at the orthodontist’s chair. And once when I visited a friend in hospital, who had met with an accident, I ended up on the adjacent bed because I had fainted just looking at him, much to the delight of the nurses and others around. !
My ophthalmologist looked me in the eye and assuaging all such fears said “just treat it as a picnic.” A picnic, on an operating table? That isn’t some eye candy to look forward to!
Fears notwithstanding, I made my way to the hospital. And my wife perceiving my fear, peered into my eyes and said, “I have been there before, your fears are irrational” Which fear isn’t?
There I was waiting on the bed and before I could envisage further horrors, a nurse gave me a couple of tablets to swallow and poured some drops into my eyes.
Some 20 minutes later she walked me to the operating table. No gowns, or pep talks, in fact no pre-preperation at all.! All I had was a surgical cap on my head.
The doctor was waiting, and I was ready to keep my eye peeled on the proceedings, fear or no fear.
But it was easier said than done. As I lay on the table, I realised my hands weren’t strapped! What if I try to reach my eye during the operation.? I just resigned myself to holding tightly on to the bed, even as I was covered with just a blanket. A drape was placed over my face putting me in the dark. I could hear a velcro ripping open over my right eye and the doctor asking me to open my eye.
Now the first doubt surfaced. Was I to open both eyes or just the right one? And an even more confusing part was, because of the drape, I wasn’t sure if my left eye was open or closed. And I was too nervous to check it out. Should I blink, even though I knew I was never good at blinking?
Meanwhile the doctor said he would be pouring some liquid into my eye. The cold liquid was soothing and helped me turn a blind eye to my confusion.
The lights were switched on, or maybe I noticed it just then. There were two big ones at the top resembling a pav, and four grouped together at the bottom resembling a set of pavs for pav bhaji. I was feasting my eyes on the vada pavs and pav bhaji, when all of a sudden it was dark, just for a milli-second or so and then I saw the galaxy. I even spotted The Big Bear! That’s when I saw a giant pen coming towards me. Then again the darkness followed by my familiar vada pavs and pav bhajji, a sure sight for sore eyes. I was then again asked to close my eyes while the doctor placed an eye shield and announced the procedure over. He even complimented me on being a good patient.! Should I tell him all my fears had failed to rise to the surface because my eyes, or eye, was glued to the vada pavs and pav bhaji? I refrained.
A month of convalescence, and a regular routine of eyes drops saw me eyeing things differently. My better half kept an eagle eye, least I fall prey to the mobile addiction. I noticed the right eye getting brighter, while the left stayed dim. Was there more than that met the eye? Or was it the real nature of things? The grey side of nature? I couldn’t tell because off I was to get my left eye cataract removed.
The fear this time was missing and I even looked forward to the vada pavs. And this time, instead of a galaxy I saw a kaleidoscope, not of colour, but all in white.
It was a bit complicated for both eyes, my doctor told me, post operation, a technicality I couldn’t fathom. But I did tell him that If I didnt go out like light, it was because of his expertise and the confidence which he passed on to me.
A bright look, notwithstanding, I now wonder will I now be able to see through the fallacies of the world? Remains to be seen.
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