Seeing, truly, is believing

Sixty-five years ago I walked to the mailbox, which was on the blacktop highway a mile, by gravel road, from the farmhouse in Killough Valley in the Ozarks over yonder.

Aside from Saturdays, when we went to town to get groceries and other necessities, walking to the mailbox was the only way to get mail.

On this particular day, there was a small brown box among the letters. I carried that box like it was made of gold, because it contained something special, something magical, something worthy of super-careful handling.

A couple of weeks before the box arrived, my folks and I had made a trip to Poplar Bluff, which was like going to "the city" as far as I was concerned. If we went once a week "to town," we went to Poplar Bluff maybe four times a year. That made it special. Very special.

For one thing, Poplar Bluff was where Dr. Long had his office. Dr. Long was an optometrist, and my mother thought I should have my eyes checked. Sure enough, my eyesight was terrible in the left eye. Astigmatism, Dr. Long said. He might just as well have said I had a rhinoceros in my left eye. To a kid, "astigmatism" doesn't mean much.

It took several years before I realized I saw the world out of just one eye. I had a right-eyed view of everything in sight. With glasses and a good right eye, I managed pretty well, thank you.''

And that's what was in the small brown box: my first pair of eyeglasses.

If we had gone to Dr. Long's office, he would have seen that the glasses were adjusted and fit properly. But Dr. Long was an hour's drive away, and we didn't make unnecessary hour-long drives. Ever.

So Dr. Long mailed my new glasses to me. My mother had instructed me not to open the box. She said she would do it, because we couldn't risk having the glasses damaged in any way before I wore them for the first time.

I was excited beyond imagination by the time I reached the farmhouse, and handed the precious box to my mother. She carefully opened the box and took out the glasses. She put them on me.

Whazzam!

Who knew there were so many things to see?

The most obvious difference with the new glasses was the sensation that the ground was slanted at a precarious angle, forcing me into a funny walk. Butch, the mongrel dog, didn't seem to care one bit.

It took several days to adjust to the strong prescription in the left lens of my new glasses. I didn't mind. After all, I was a true-blue hillbilly and was accustomed to walking on terrain that either went up a hill or down another.

Most importantly, I could see the blackboard at Shady Nook School, where I was the only student other than Nancy who wore glasses.

Seeing led to reading, and many other activities I had obviously been avoiding for all of my young life. I could now see the softball coming straight at me instead of getting bopped in the head.

Dr. Long took care of my eyes until I went away to college. Dr. Long and, later, his son, took care of my mother's eyes and my brother's eyes, too. All together, they spanned more than 50 years of eye care for our family. As far as I know, there is still a Dr. Long in Poplar Bluff. Maybe a grandson?

A few years ago my Cape Girardeau optometrist, Dr. Leet, told me cataracts were forming in both my eyes. He kept careful watch of their development. Earlier this year, he said it was time to have the cataracts removed. A couple of weeks ago I had an operation, by Dr. Lumsden, to take care of the cataract in my left eye. I also received a special implant to offset the astigmatism. I can now see out of my left eye far better than my right eye. I now have a left-eyed view of the world.

That will last a couple more weeks until the cataract in the right eye is set to come out. The prognosis is I won't need eyeglasses after that.

Sixty-five years of wearing glasses will come to an end. Several friends have had cataracts removed recently. They all say they feel naked without their glasses. Not me.

I told my wife the day after the surgery on my left eye that I wanted to find one of those stands that sell sunglasses. I said I wanted a pair of cool sunglasses. At a minimum, I wanted sunglasses like those worn by somebody cool. I wanted to be Joe Cool.

Well, I have new sunglasses. I doubt they make me look any cooler to anyone except me. I love them.

As far as I'm concerned, what medical professionals do for eyes these days is nothing short of a miracle. I am amazed.

If you've been told by your eye professional that you need cataract surgery, don't put it off. I want you to be amazed too.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.