I had visited the ophthalmologist in the Shopko store in Rhinelander (an insurance network thing.) After the preliminaries of having my eyes assailed by bursts of air, bright lights and other ophthalmic voodo I was bade to wait in the reception area for my turn with the ophthalmologist.
The weather was on my mind, since we encountered blizzard conditions from Ironwood to the south of Mercer. Then sunshine and dry roads the rest of the way. After a brief interlude the doctor welcomed me.
I explained my astigmatism seemed to be worse and I was generally having trouble seeing computer text, especially the (insanely) low contrast print. Several vision tests ensued. I performed poorly at reading random letters of all sizes except the largest. The doctor, an affable Asian dilated my pupils and sent me out to await the third phase of my exam.
Lois said I should look at frames, but many similar searches in past exams have proven difficult since I can't see worth a hoot when my pupils are fully dilated. Anyway, the frames that I picked were always the most expensive. who, in their right mind would pay $250 for frames! Just because the Harley-Davidson logo appears on them?
Lois found out that we can have old frames outfitted with a new prescription. This is good news since I have a pair of unused glasses and I happened to like how I looked with the frames.
Back into the exam room to see more bright lights as the doctor peered into my retinas.
"You just aren't seeing very well. The problem is your cataracts have worsened over the last year. You have the worst kind, in the center of your lenses and I'll bet you that when you drive at night the oncoming headlights look like fireworks displays."
"That aptly describes it."
"It would be pointless to prescribe new lenses since they wouldn't help. You need surgery, George."
My pulse quickened, recalling the surgical procedure Dr. Stempihar did to relieve my insanely excessive tearing. Primal fear overtook me when the hypodermic needle approached my eye. Micro scissors were used to open my tear ducts closed by my atopic dermatitis (eczema.) "Never again," I vowed out loud after the procedure while trying to open my painfully clenched fists.
Dr. Stempihar will perform the cataract surgery and I'm going in on faith inspired by others who who have had the operation and claimed that it was 'nothing.' I'm hoping this surgery will make my life easier. The ophthalmologist said that I won't be nearsighted anymore, but I may need reading glasses.
That makes me anticipate the surgery! I can't imagine what a blessing that would be, to basically have the eyesight that I had as a little kid before nearsightedness set in.
I asked Lois to drive on the way home and I walked into Culvers a la Ray Charles. It was the only way I could stand the bright lighting.
When we got to Woodruff I took over behind the wheel and the blizzard resumed just as we passed Highway 70 intersection. It was tough and my eyes were still a little dilated, making oncoming lights difficult to bear. We did lots of praying, "God, keep us safe." Oncoming semis intensified the blizzard as did the one idiot driver who passed us with a Chevy Monte Carlo, blinding us for a long time.
It took two hours to drive from Woodruff to Ironwood at about 30-40 m.p.h.The blizzard was much worse as we approached Hurley. The Nissan handled it well, with God's protection. We would live so each of us could have our cataracts removed. Lois had the same diagnosis during her appointment with the asian doctor. The blind leading the blind.
