Follow me…
In my 50s, I wrote a column called “What’s a Girl to Do?” It was an adventure column. I drove race cars, jumped out of an airplane, learned to hand glide (only got 16-feet off the sand dune), dove with sharks, flew on a trapeze, was a flagger at the Long Beach Grand Prix (not an easy job). I drove a 40-plus motor home to a gathering of star gazers whose telescopes were bigger than my bathroom and I backed the behemoth into a spot on the very first and only try. The diving with sharks got me head butted by a 7-foot Blue Tip shark, in fact I woke the next morning gasping, “Damn, I could have been beheaded!” There were many, many other adventures and now that I’m well beyond my 50s I’m writing another column. Perhaps I should call this one, “What’s an Old Girl to Do?”
The other day I went to what I thought was a routine eye exam. After a ton of tests (yes the letters that I couldn’t see), sitting in a dark room with my eyes dilated, more tests with the doctor, I came away from the doctor’s office knowing I need cataract surgery in both eyes. What?!
Me being me, I scheduled both surgeries before I left the doctor’s office. Most likely if I hadn’t scheduled them, I’d put them off, lose the paperwork, or forget the whole thing and be like people who have said, “I should have had the surgery years ago. Now it’s going to be more difficult.” Nope, not me.
My mother was always proud of the fact that her father, my grandfather, was an eye surgeon. In 1902. Over a century ago. He died before I was born but my older cousins have said he was a lovely man. Grandfather/Grandpa – who knows what to call someone you’ve never met – went to West Point and dropped out after two years to go to medical school; a healer not a fighter. I once asked my mom, “What did he use way back then for surgery, a sharp rock?” She swatted me and if she hadn’t been so tiny, at 5 feet 2 inches, she might have decked me. She did not laugh, nor chuckle. Her blue eyes drilled into me. Needless to say, I never joked about Grandfather being a surgeon at the turn of the century again.
Actually, I kind of wish my grandfather was still alive and practicing. I knew of his stellar reputation, knew that he was the head of a Detroit hospital. I knew nothing about any ophthalmologists in Lake or Mendocino County. As soon as I drove myself home, slowly, with my dark glasses and dilated eyes, I called a friend. Turns out he had cataract surgery by my same doctor and he couldn’t spout off praises for him fast enough; “highly recommended, excellent reviews, top-notch, moved to Lake County from Southern California to get out of the rat race…” OK, I felt better.
I did ask the doctor if he was any good. Dumb question. What was he going to say, “I’m a hack.” No, he said he’s been practicing for 30 years. I also asked if his hands were steady. He held his purple-gloved hands out to me and they were shaking up and down. Funny guy. At least he has a sense of humor, not something all doctors have.
While I lived overseas in Sri Lanka (think below India, think tsunami) for 14 years, I sat in the government eye surgery ward (for some reason that I can’t remember) and saw streams of Sri Lankans pour out of the recovery area with a patch over their eye. So I figure, how difficult could cataract surgery be if a government hospital in a third world county could be making it happen? Not to disparage Sri Lankan hospitals. I was told many times back then that if a person had a heart attack or needed heart surgery, make a fast track to the National Hospital of Sri Lanka, the best place in the region for heart problems. Plus, I loved my doctor in Sri Lanka because he cured me of migraines when doctors in the U.S. couldn’t. Not even with the $20 a pill medicine they gave me. No cure whatsoever. I’m still cured of them and Dr. S. and I are still friends on social media.
So, pony up, Lucy. Follow the doctor’s instructions and be brave. Don’t worry about someone cutting into your eye, unless he’s holding a sharp rock.
Lucy Llewellyn Byard is currently a freelance journalist for the Record-Bee and various other publications. You can email her at lucywgtd@gmail.com
