"Do you want surgery now or later?"
Immediately I say, "Later, much later."
Then the blurriness appears,
words that should be clear
are fuzzy as I squint at them.
Time for surgery, I conclude
as I return to the eye doctor
with fear and trepidation.
"It's a simple operation," all say.
"Piece of cake, and you'll be thrilled
with the results." That doesn't stop my fears.
oxygen tubes in nose, IV in arm,
blood pressure cuff inflated.
Patches on my chest, meters measuring
my blood sugar, being reassured
by a nurse, "This is the worse part."
But then comes the moment of truth
when I am wheeled into an operating room
a nervous wreck, but there none the less.
I don't remember seeing the doctor,
but he tells me afterwards, he was there
in disguise. "Disguised as what I ask?"
All I can remember is my face being
covered with a cloth with an eye hole,
then after some anesthesia, it was over.
alive. Thrilled, I survived my first eye
surgery, only one more eye to go.