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Friday
March 19, 2010 Since 1922 |
Seeing is now really believing
By Jim Finley
Contributor Published October 27, 2009 I can see, I can see, I can see!
Sort of.
Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.
Psychologically speaking, I always thought that well-known children’s verse should read “and hope NOT to die.” But what do I know?
Whatever. I can see better now because Dr. Martin Arisco did, indeed, stick something resembling a needle in my eye – plus other dangerous implements. (Did I catch sight of a garden hoe before going to sleepy town for a brief period there?)
I had what we in the medical profession call “cataracts.” So Martin sliced those babies out and inserted a lens into the eyeball on the left (or southpaw) side of my head.
When completely cured, better vision days are ahead.
Although I’m just slightly past 45, I knew this surgery was coming. But it became even more urgent with a highly moronic Congress messing around with healthcare. You’ve notice, huh?
I knew if I didn’t go forward pretty quickly, I’d probably get a letter from Kathleen (Kathy) Sebelius, Secretary of Health and Human Services, narrowing my options.
“Dear Jimbo,” Kathy would say. “See where you need cataract surgery, haha. Well, big boy, choose an eye – right or left (I prefer left).
“I’ll OK surgery at one of two hospitals. Your choice. The USC (go, Trojans!) Medical Center Doheny Eye Institute, Los Angeles, or the Wills Eye Hospital, Philadelphia.
“We’ll pay for everything OVER 95 percent of the total costs.
“[Signed] Kathleen (Kathy) Sebelius.”
Facing those fears, Martin did an eye exam and set a date for the cataract scraping. He also sent me to see Mary Kukorlo, who does pre-op counseling at San Jacinto Regional Eye Center.
Sensing my nervousness (cowardice), Mary asked me not to faint and then walked me through some of the procedures. Did I ever tell you I don’t like medical stuff?
While it’s still a work in progress, I’m getting better each day. And, man alive, what a difference it has made. Like:
Wife Margie. What a babe! I always knew she was good looking, but goodness she’s better looking than I remembered. And she has this beautiful gray hair. I thought it was palomino.
I also got to see Sun Publisher Cliff Clements clearly for the first time since he arrived in ’06. He’s much younger looking than I thought, and I’d say that even if he didn’t sign my paycheck.
Speaking of The Sun, I noticed the famous Baytown oak tree up there in the paper’s masthead, the whatchamadoodle that sits atop of the front page. Before surgery, it looked like the Hartman Bridge to me.
Too, I was pleased to get a fresh new look at my neighbor Matt White. Before the procedure, I thought he was a dead-ringer for David Letterman. I felt really bad for him. No one should have to bear that burden.
After surgery, I discovered he was a boyishly handsome son of a gun, like maybe a younger Mark Harmon of “NCIS” fame.
I’m also now a better “spotter” for Robbie Magness at Stallworth Stadium football games. In the past, an “88” looked like an “86” or an “89.” (Or a “1.”)
I really felt bad when I’d tell Robbie that No. 10 (quarterback Cody Larson) made the tackle for the Patriots when it was actually No. 76 (defensive lineman Kendall Wilkerson). But what you goin’ do? I play when I’m hurt.
One of the few major setbacks I encountered was when I went to my garage after surgery and discovered I had two BLACK cars. I thought all along my Corolla was black, but the Camry was navy blue. Imagine my surprise.
With this rate of progress, soon I’ll be reading my own column.
Jim Finley is a retired managing editor for The Baytown Sun.
Contributor Published October 27, 2009 I can see, I can see, I can see!
Sort of.
Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.
Psychologically speaking, I always thought that well-known children’s verse should read “and hope NOT to die.” But what do I know?
Whatever. I can see better now because Dr. Martin Arisco did, indeed, stick something resembling a needle in my eye – plus other dangerous implements. (Did I catch sight of a garden hoe before going to sleepy town for a brief period there?)
I had what we in the medical profession call “cataracts.” So Martin sliced those babies out and inserted a lens into the eyeball on the left (or southpaw) side of my head.
When completely cured, better vision days are ahead.
Although I’m just slightly past 45, I knew this surgery was coming. But it became even more urgent with a highly moronic Congress messing around with healthcare. You’ve notice, huh?
I knew if I didn’t go forward pretty quickly, I’d probably get a letter from Kathleen (Kathy) Sebelius, Secretary of Health and Human Services, narrowing my options.
“Dear Jimbo,” Kathy would say. “See where you need cataract surgery, haha. Well, big boy, choose an eye – right or left (I prefer left).
“I’ll OK surgery at one of two hospitals. Your choice. The USC (go, Trojans!) Medical Center Doheny Eye Institute, Los Angeles, or the Wills Eye Hospital, Philadelphia.
“We’ll pay for everything OVER 95 percent of the total costs.
“[Signed] Kathleen (Kathy) Sebelius.”
Facing those fears, Martin did an eye exam and set a date for the cataract scraping. He also sent me to see Mary Kukorlo, who does pre-op counseling at San Jacinto Regional Eye Center.
Sensing my nervousness (cowardice), Mary asked me not to faint and then walked me through some of the procedures. Did I ever tell you I don’t like medical stuff?
While it’s still a work in progress, I’m getting better each day. And, man alive, what a difference it has made. Like:
Wife Margie. What a babe! I always knew she was good looking, but goodness she’s better looking than I remembered. And she has this beautiful gray hair. I thought it was palomino.
I also got to see Sun Publisher Cliff Clements clearly for the first time since he arrived in ’06. He’s much younger looking than I thought, and I’d say that even if he didn’t sign my paycheck.
Speaking of The Sun, I noticed the famous Baytown oak tree up there in the paper’s masthead, the whatchamadoodle that sits atop of the front page. Before surgery, it looked like the Hartman Bridge to me.
Too, I was pleased to get a fresh new look at my neighbor Matt White. Before the procedure, I thought he was a dead-ringer for David Letterman. I felt really bad for him. No one should have to bear that burden.
After surgery, I discovered he was a boyishly handsome son of a gun, like maybe a younger Mark Harmon of “NCIS” fame.
I’m also now a better “spotter” for Robbie Magness at Stallworth Stadium football games. In the past, an “88” looked like an “86” or an “89.” (Or a “1.”)
I really felt bad when I’d tell Robbie that No. 10 (quarterback Cody Larson) made the tackle for the Patriots when it was actually No. 76 (defensive lineman Kendall Wilkerson). But what you goin’ do? I play when I’m hurt.
One of the few major setbacks I encountered was when I went to my garage after surgery and discovered I had two BLACK cars. I thought all along my Corolla was black, but the Camry was navy blue. Imagine my surprise.
With this rate of progress, soon I’ll be reading my own column.
Jim Finley is a retired managing editor for The Baytown Sun.