Cataracts … get back, get down, boot scootin boogie
Well, it isn’t a song I was wanting to sing, but somehow I can’t get this little ditty outta my head. My week is just getting more interesting and not so much in a good way. Getting drops in my eyes to freeze and then blind me is not on my list of things I can’t wait to experience. This getting old shit doesn’t seem to let up. There is always something I never saw coming that shows up and takes me down another crooked path.
It had never occurred to me I might have cataracts… hell, I just thought my prescription glasses were to blame for the glare and poor night vision. Ah well, why not cataracts? Just add them to the growing list of painful crap that comes with aging. Sciatica, gout, and high blood pressure, as well as high sugar levels and bone spurs… and I don’t even own a pair of cowboy boots.
We won’t even get into hair that starts sprouting everywhere except where it’s supposed to. This is serious stuff, and now I know why our eyesight fades. If I don’t see it, it doesn’t count, right? Will this be an ongoing thing, I wonder, hmmm, that was a stupid question. When I’m dead, it will all stop, no more aging gracefully (well, I try). There will be no more of these unhealthy surprises, and best of all for those close to me, no more listening to me whining.
Well, I’ve promised to come back and haunt a few people, so there’s that. All in all, though, I suppose I should have known this was possible. My optometrist asked me how I felt about cataract surgery, and I looked at him and said, “It’s not even an option!” “Having someone slice into my eyeballs is not on my list of priorities; just give me new glasses.”
“Well, how do you feel about not driving anymore?” My optometrist is obligated to notify the Motor Vehicles branch. This will result in them taking away my driver’s license. Hmmmm… this put a whole new slant on it. NOT in a good way either! I can’t even imagine not being able to drive. Are you kidding me? Well, he wasn’t, and I needed to accept my fate and agree to someone sticking knives in my eyes… lordy, lordy.
My go-to saying in real life, when something doesn’t agree with me at all, is to stick out my wrists hands up and say “I’d rather just slit my wrists.” Well, here I am, and slitting my wrists is not an option. My journey into cataract surgery was not over yet, though. Meeting the surgeon a few weeks later was okay, I guess, but he kept asking me if I had any questions. I had a few, but he only confused me more with his answers. Especially about a stigmatism.
My optometrist is the one who got the grilling, and he was also the one who explained everything in plain language for me to digest. Trust me when I say I grilled him on everything. I did not want cataract surgery, but if it involved losing my driver’s licence, then surgery it is. Now comes the important part. Get your money out, this is big business!
In Canada, we are covered for these health issues, and it’s part of what we expect from free health care. Now comes the dicey part. My surgeon explained the various procedures and lenses, and whatever. BUT I already knew what I wanted. My optometrist had explained all the different lenses and the possible costs. Funny thing though, the surgeon, while explaining different lenses and stuff, never once mentioned any prices.
I told the surgeon I was okay with wearing glasses, and I am. I’m down south in AZ for a good part of my winters, and it’s always sunny. My prescription glasses turn into sunglasses in the sun, and it’s perfect for those who always lose their sunglasses (which is me!). I don’t need the fancy prescription glass lens sewn into my eyeballs so that I will not have a need to wear glasses at all. End of discussion. I’m not sure he understood me. I don’t think he was listening to me at all.
So we wind up our visit, and he gives me a piece of paper to take to the front desk in the waiting room. There is a wait list for the surgery, and it could be up to five months. Shit! I tell him I’m going south and I rented out my place this year, so I could be homeless if I have to wait too long! He says he will put me on the waiting list for cancellations. Any more questions? “Nope”
At the front desk, the receptionist takes my paperwork, which the surgeon gave me, and she wants me to sign a form. This form has me agreeing to everything and relinquishing my rights to whatever…. Whoa, baby.. let’s back up here a bit. What exactly is this, I say, and how much is it costing? Are you ready for this????? One thousand nine hundred and fifty dollars and eye! Yep, I kid you not!
I look at her dumbfounded and say, “The government doesn’t pay me enough money in my old age to afford this!” She doesn’t hesitate and pulls back the form and hands me back another one, bringing the cost down to one thousand fourteen hundred for each eye. I look right into her eyes, sorry/not sorry, and say, “I want the free surgery because I’m okay with wearing my prescription glasses afterward.”
Long story short, my optometrist had already explained and answered all my questions. It even turns out that I may be able to wear the same glasses I already have. I’m not sure where we got our wires crossed in the surgeon’s office, but I am not liking what happened one little bit! The waiting room was full, and the receptionist didn’t try to dissuade me or offer any explanations. She put a new form in front of me (a free one), and I signed it and left.
No questions asked, and I’m left wondering wtf just happened?
Copyright June 7th, 2025