In March of 2024 I underwent cataract surgery on both eyes. I recall being amazed and pleased by the improvements in my vision. I was glad it had all gone well, and was ready to put that milestone on my way through old age behind me.
Several months ago I began to notice some fuzziness or cloudiness in my vision. I figured it was dry eyes or something like that, and tried several kinds of eye drops to clear things up. But my vision continued to get worse, and I made an appointment with my optometrist. He told me that I has one of a significant number of post-cataract-surgery patients in which the membrane behind the new lenses clouds over. (It’s called Posterior Capsule Opacification, or PCO, I believe.) He said the problem was easily fixed with a quick laser treatment.
Monday morning—two days ago—I went to the Cleveland Eye Clinic, where my eyes were thoroughly examined for about an hour before I finally got the promised “YAG” laser treatment . It took all of about 30 seconds. Even though my eyes were dilated, I knew right away that my vision had underdone an astonishing improvement.
One of the things I was told in the preliminaries was that my eyesight was so compromised that I should not have been driving at night. It was scary to learn that. I knew I was having some difficulties with glare, but apparently I was more at risk of having an accident than I ever dared imagine. It was humbling to learn that what I thought I was doing well I was actually doing poorly.
Later yesterday and into today I have marveled at the colors and clarity of leaves and flowers, the brightness of my phone’s screen, the blackness of newsprint. I was missing so very much, and I did not really know it. By this evening, I fear I am beginning to get used to the newness, and not noticing it. I am fighting that feeling because I liked the excitement of seeing everything in a new way.
In some ways, the joy of this vast improvement surpasses what I felt after cataract surgery itself. That’s probably because I didn’t have to go through a slower recovery period. The change was instant. The only earlier experience I can fully compare it with was when I first got glasses when we I was 12 or 13 years old and suddenly stars actually were pinpricks of light and glowing embers were more than a red-orange blob. Maybe what happened to me Monday took me back to a youthfulness that is in fact far beyond my capturing.
My experience reminds me that blindness is not simply a total lack of vision, but can also be cloudy, imperfect vision. I was walking (and driving!) through my life thinking I was seeing clearly, but I was wrong. It took a laser strike to bring me back to my senses (so to speak) and to realize not only what I had been missing but also to look carefully at everything I could now look at again and see anew.
I think a lot around us encourages us to perceive our surroundings through clouded eyes. It even tries to provide the cloud. I am troubled by those who do not seem to see things as clearly as I do. But then I wonder how clearly I see things. I try hard to learn about things that matter to me, to respect facts and truth, to speak what makes reasoned sense to me based upon my experience and knowledge. And then one day I am shocked to learn I may be a danger to myself and to others, a shock that should cause me to try harder to see things, including myself, for what they really are. Doing this is a life-long journey of discovery and reflection. I hope I never give in to any blindness I may realize I have and be content with just living with it.
Finally, I had never heard of PCO before I was diagnosed with it, which is surprising now that I’ve talked with so many people who’ve gone through the same thing. If you are reading this, and are experiencing a similar problem following cataract surgery, get it checked out. I’d love for you to enjoy the miracles I’ve enjoyed for the last day and a half.
And I am forever grateful.
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