Doctor My Eyes

"He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fooks”

Warren Zevon

Well fook me. or should I say Fuchs me. The transformation has begun. You will notice an uncontrollable and rapid random growth of hair on parts of the body previously barren ( ear, nose and throat.) Starting from the top, we first see a small halo of balding scalp centered on the back top of my skull, the place where a yarmulka was invented to cover.

A little lower, welcome to my ears, my now hairy ears. One turn of phrase I have loved since childhood is getting your ears lowered, (after getting a haircut.) I always thought it was getting your ears Lord, which seemed funny because weren’t most of us already born with ears?

If you got ears, you gotta listen. Old women sweat, young girls glisten. There's more than what you thought, Pop in a thought, The shiny beast of thought

Don Van Vliet Dirty Blue Gene from Doc at the Radar Station

My hearing was tested recently, and I am told that I have about 30+ % loss in both ears, with a slightly worse left ear. Certain frequencies have been especially hit. For example, I seem to have a hard time hearing my wife. She thinks I am making a conscious choice to ignore her, but the reality is that we are simply on different frequencies. I can hear sound coming from her mouth, yet I can’t hear her well enough to fully discern the gist of her meaning. Still, after all these years, I like the cut of her jib.

Besides this inconvenient domestic intrusion, I am overwhelmed by the deafening thrum of tinnitus, a high pitched buzzing like bees on cocaine. Is it any wonder that I take refuge in the songs of teenage lesbians?

Would my hearing benefit from hearing aids? Maybe yes, maybe no. I am very close to trying this option, because IT IS NOT GETTING BETTER. And it won’t get better without some kind intervention ( or is that Divine Intervention?)

This last week I went to the ophthalmologist, (or eye doctor) for those without the benefit of A.I. spellcheck. I had seen him a year previous, and was informed that I had cataracts. He decided that my need for surgery was not as pressing as the many other folks in his crowded waiting room. Come back in a year he advised.

So here I was this past Friday, checking in again. Is your sight any better than last year?

No.

Is it worse?

Yes.

Driving home at night now is a daredevil ride. It is that time of year when it is black in the morning, and black when I leave to drive home. Compound the oncoming darkness with heavy rain, and all I see is a big blur of melting colours. I have taken to leaving work about 30 minutes before it gets dark, which is sometimes a tricky calculation. In Canada where I live, the lighting on the roads is not great, certainly not as bright as some US highways.

The doctor said it was borderline with my cataracts, but if it was becoming untenable, then he would suggest surgery. Cataract removal is done in an office without anesthesia. You are awake through the whole procedure. I am starting to think that “you are awake through the whole procedure” is becoming my personal mantra. Cataracts can cause blurry vision and increase the effects of glare. This is why I am experiencing these effects at night. In the daytime, I am very sensitive to light and glare. With my glasses on, I am constantly trying to move the progressive lens to the exact point in the progressive spectrum that allows me to see best. I am increasingly finding that there is no point in the spectrum that allows me to see best.

This daily degradation of my senses is having a broader effect on my moods and personality. So much so that while the thought of eye surgery is scary, I welcome the possibility of seeing much better.

Doctor, my eyes have seen the years
And the slow parade of fears, without crying
Now I want to understand
I have done all that I could
To see the evil and the good without hidin'
You must help me if you can

Doctor, my eyes
Tell me what is wrong
Was I unwise
To leave them open for so long?

Jackson Browne

But wait, there’s more. Not only do I have cataracts— I also have Fuchs endothelial dystrophy. Yes, I am FED up. This is a progressive—damn I hate being so progressive—disease of the corneas. I am one of the Children of the Cornea. If it all wasn’t so damned depressing, it would be funny.

Piece by piece I am transforming, becoming the Bionic Man. I remember when my nephew was about 5, he said he was the Six Dollar Man. He meant the Six Million Dollar Man, but what are all those zeros for? When you are a child, adding or subtracting zeros is easy. It has no meaning. Six dollar- Six million dollar. These days our governments are searching for the next zero. Billionaires? Feh! Bring on the Trillionaires. But why stop there. After trillion, comes quadrillion, followed by quintillion, sextillion, septillion, octillion, nonillion, and decillion.

How many zeros before we hit reptilian? That’s who I am blaming for all my ails. Those damned Reptilians. The Lizard People. Covered in suits of scaly justice, they walk among us. We have devolved. I am not transforming. I am devolving. Soon we will be back to the back brain. Overload in the back brain. Medulla Oblong Gadda Da Vida.

You’re Hooked.