Overwhelmed

        I depended on my right eye all my life.  My left eye was always the weak one.  My mother said  when I was a little girl, the eye doctor recommended putting a patch over the good right eye, to help strengthen the left.  They called it a lazy eye.  But knowing that would also cause unwanted attention, she hoped it would someday strengthen itself.  I must say, being a red head with a catchy last name, running around with an eye patch might have done me in.  She did have compassion.
      Back in January, I had cataract surgery.  My good right eye, was starting to fail.   Lights became  glarrier at night, reading ordinary print made it impossible without a magnifying glass, reading music became embarrassing; since everyone knew I could sightread, and wearing a watch required a big face with the ultimate of contrast. 
     Thinking about all the changes I was making to convince myself and others I could see, makes me sad.  I used to love book clubs.  Writing and creating were exciting to me.  But playing the piano started to make me nervous instead of joyous.  And driving at night was now dangerous.
 No more.
     After the surgery, I wore a patch for one day and they removed it the next.  Driving home, I was overwhelmed at the detail and color of this beautiful world I had forgotten was so vivid. The change was night and day.  We passed landmarks with details that had always been there, but that I had not seen.  Peoples' features were so clear it made me think I could have been a great dermatologist!
     After a month of regimented eye drops and now reading 20/20, I went in to have the left eye done.  The contrast between the two now, was a cloudy day compared to a sunny one.  Plus I had to know if the vision would miraculously improve.   Modern technology  makes it easier to consider this even once.  Now I was going for it twice; being thankful there weren't three eyes.
     Learning the left eye would never read as good as it started (20/40), I was overjoyed with the detail I gained back and had been missing for so long in it also.  Colors are bright.  Details are clear.  Depth perception is gageable.  Threading a needle is possible.
     But last week, sitting in my ukulele class with people and music I gave up knowing for a few years because I couldn't read the chords, I was in heaven.  I pinch myself frequently and am humbled, realizing my eyes are back. The eyes that I pretended would do.  A big piece of my life is back.    And my gratitude is huge.