About a week into December, I had a squabble with my wife, when I rolled my eyes in anger. I saw something black in the corner of my left eye. I hoped it was a speck of dust that would resolve quickly. I didn’t have much time to worry, as I was scheduled for a platelet donation at the Red Cross.

While sitting at the Red Cross, over two hours, I remembered something my ophthalmologist once said: “If you start to see something like a black curtain coming down, you need to get in here immediately.”

“But it’s not convenient today,” I thought. I had to take my son to therapy, then to gymnastics. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help my eye to reset. It didn’t. The next day I made an appointment with an eye doctor for Friday morning. The scheduler initially didn’t want to schedule me so soon. I told her it was a medical emergency. Self diagnosis.

I took my wife and son to a drive-through dinner on Thursday, at Chick-Fil-A. It cost us over $30 which is pretty typical for our family. The food was delicious but the price cringe-worthy. We took our son to his swim lesson, where I sat with my eyes closed. I kept hoping the black curtain in my left eye would go away.

Friday, my ophthalmologist dilated my eyes, took digital images, checked the pressure in my eyes, did an extensive exam, and confirmed my concern. My left retina had begun to detach. He said I needed to get to an eye surgeon today, and he already made the appointment. Go now. Don’t eat or drink anything. He added, it’s a good thing we caught it early. There’s a good chance I could recover my eyesight fully. Another patient of his waited too long, until her retina completely detached. She would probably never regain normal vision.

I called my boss to report my condition. I wouldn’t be driving any time soon.

I had my wife with me, which was imperative for driving safety. She was almost as traumatized with the news as I was. The implication being, I wouldn’t be able to drive, go shopping, or lift much of anything for at least 6 weeks.

The Surgeon was Ali Parhiz. His Nampa office was packed with people, but I got in to see him in less than 15 minutes. I was not an easy patient to deal with, tired of people poking at my eyes. He confirmed what my ophthalmologist had found. He suggested that he should be able to save my eye. I was scheduled for surgery at St. Luke’s Hospital in Meridian. Check-in at 3:30 PM, surgery at 5:30 PM. He ordered no food or drink until after the surgery. He told me to pick up two prescriptions he sent to my pharmacy, before going to the hospital.

I went to the pharmacy with my wife, to collect the eye drops I would need. I dropped her off at home, to wait for our son, who would be getting off the school bus soon. I pulled my massage chair out of my shed, and set it up in the living room.

I was smelling pretty rank by then, so I took a shower and put on fresh clothes. I asked my wonderful Father-In-Law to take me to the hospital.

When introducing Dr. Parhiz to my Father-In-Law, I mentioned how impatient I had been during his initial exam. Dr. Parhiz replied, “Almost, it sounds like you said, Thank you for doing my surgery at the last minute on Friday evening.”

Thanks doctor, for putting a positive spin on things.

They had me remove all clothing, and put on a hospital gown. For eye surgery? It didn’t make sense to me, but what do I know?

They showed me a pamphlet from FaceDownSolutions. Since I would be expected to keep my face down for 2 weeks, this FaceDownSolutions could make the process more comfortable, or perhaps I should say, less uncomfortable. They offered massage chairs (Master Massage) and bolsters (Earthlite) to take some of the strain out of the recovery time. I already own a massage chair and table, so I didn’t need to rent another one. In hindsight, I wish I had that special mirror which would have allowed me to watch TV while face down.

The doctor explained that he would remove the fluid and floaters from my eye, and reattach my retina with a laser. He would put a gas bubble in my eye, and I would not be able to drive until the bubble was completely gone. It would take about 6 to 8 weeks… or longer. It might take up to six months for my vision to return to normal. The process would make my cataracts worse, and I would have to get my lens replaced.

They stuck an IV in my left arm, attached a medical bracelet to my left wrist, a hospital bracelet to my right wrist, and laid a warm blanket over my lower body. They cleaned the area around my eye. It seemed like every new person who talked to me asked for my birthdate. They rolled my bed into a surgery room, and commenced about 40 minutes of surgery. There were several people on the surgical team, including an anesthesiologist. I’m not sure what pain meds they gave me, but I was fully awake for the procedure. I heard lots of pleasant chatting, and felt some probing around my left eye. There was no pain in my eye, during or after the surgery.

After my hospital bed was parked in the recovery room, they put my hands on the rails, and told me to sit up, and put my head down. Dr. Parhiz attached a sturdy eye patch, and announced the surgery went good. I needed to keep my face down at least 6 hours after arriving home, then I could sleep on my right side 8 hours. Do NOT lift anything over 10 pounds. Do NOT sleep or rest on my back. Do NOT take off the patch. I had to visit Dr. Parhiz at his Boise office on Saturday morning.

The Boise office for Idaho Retina Center was in a spacious medical building on Curtis Road, in Boise Idaho. It was closed for the weekend, but Dr. Parhiz led me and another patient through a side-door to an elevator. As far as I knew, we were the only people in the building.

The doctor removed my eye patch, examined my eye, and repeated all the instructions he gave the previous day. He added, “This surgery has a 90% success rate. The 10% that are not successful are people who goof off and don’t do what I tell them.”

I was allowed to shower, but the doctor cautioned me to not allow any water in or on my eyes, because it may contain bacteria and amoebas. It was important he said, to keep my face down. Not just a slight lean, but facing down. I could get up for no more than 10-15 minutes every hour, to use the bathroom, have a snack, apply the eye drops. I showed him a photo of myself, resting on my massage chair, and he approved.

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The most difficult part of this experience lay ahead. I had to keep my face down every waking hour for 2 weeks. My boss had joked this was a poor excuse to get more time off for Christmas. Actually it sort of put a damper on my Christmas spirit.

Now I couldn’t go to the Christmas dinner at my church. I couldn’t see the Christmas program at my son’s school. I couldn’t do any home decorating for Christmas. I had actually dumped a couple totes of Christmas junk in the front room, before I went to the hospital, much to my wife’s consternation. She was already complaining about how our house looked to visitors.

I mentioned my retina surgery to a friend, who experienced the same situation a few years ago. He didn’t sugar-coat it.

“This is a hard time,” he said. “Very hard.” He advised me to be very careful, or I could have serious side effects.

I had to rely on other people to do things I used to do. My wife had to take the lead in getting our son to school, driving to various appointments, ordering groceries, getting meals ready, cleaning up the house. The anxiety sometimes brought her to tears.

I tried listening to music, or scriptures, or podcasts, to help pass the time. When I listened to murder/mystery programs, my wife complained I was filling my head with dark thoughts. I suppose she has a point.

My son acted out by disrespecting his school teachers, and lying about it at home. Instead of playing with healthy toys, or watching positive building videos on YouTube (which he has done for years), he has become addicted to sitting alone in his room, watching silly, destructive videos.

It might be premonition. It might be a wild coincidence. It might be an educated guess. Before my retina separation started, I ordered a new nutrition supplement, formulated for eye health. It contains Bilberry and Lutein.

The eye drops were making me constipated, so I started taking stool softeners.

Having so much time on my hands made me re-evaluate and express my gratitude. Appreciation. I appreciate my surgeon, who could do my surgery on fairly short notice. I appreciate my wonderful in-laws. I appreciate my handicapped wife who picked up the slack in our home, guiding and encouraging our son to be better, and being his primary chauffeur. I appreciate my employer, Darigold, who provided short term disability insurance. I appreciate having some extra time to re-connect relationships and bond with my family and friends. I appreciate my Savior, Jesus Christ, who gave himself as the ultimate sacrifice.

My wife added a few more items of gratitude. She’s grateful this didn’t happen in Las Vegas, when we were on vacation. She’s grateful I didn’t wait a few more days, and allow my retina to completely detach. She’s grateful we have a freezer full of food.

On the 10th day after surgery I had a follow-up visit with my surgeon. I was sitting in a dark room with several other patients, waiting for our eyes to dilate. Someone remarked, “Isn’t it interesting how much we take our vision for granted, until we start to lose it.”

The surgeon informed me that my gas bubble was at 80%. Any of my blood relatives will have a 10 times greater risk of a retina detaching. My right eye has a 10 times greater risk of the retina detaching. That makes sense, but he made no suggestions on how to reduce that risk.

On day 11, I was feeling pretty confident that my troubles were starting to fade away. Suddenly, without warning, part of my house lost power. It was the branch that powered our television, modem, and router. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t supposed to be moving furniture or poking around in the electrical wiring. My wife was trying to be helpful, but making a bad situation feel worse. She first called her father, who wasn’t able to help. Then she wanted to call an old friend, to ask him to come and figure it out.

I felt I should call Shawn, a church brother in our local congregation. My wife disagreed. She kept popping up the excuses. We didn’t really know them. They probably don’t want to be bothered. Our house is a mess. I might get up and ruin my eye surgery. She didn’t want to take our son to gymnastics.

I called Shawn. He had never been to our house, but he was happy to come and help. Even so, my wife kept agitating me to call her old friend instead. I told her to go to gymnastics, and let’s see what Shawn can do.

My son actually helped identify the problem when he plugged in his neon-effect clock, at the receptacle behind his bed. The power suddenly came on again. Shawn inspected that receptacle, and discovered that one of the mains wires was hanging loose. It was because of a nefarious push-in terminal, that failed to hold the wire. He attached the mains using the screw-down terminals instead, and everything worked fine and dandy. During his visit, we were able to chat and learn more about each other. And he said I could call him any time.

You might wonder what I could see from my left eye, 14 days after the surgery. I could see shapes and colors, with no more black curtain. I do see a slight gray shadow where the black curtain was. I’m still looking through a jiggly gas bubble, which makes me feel dizzy when I’m walking. My natural reaction is to keep the left eye closed.

Resting on this massage chair all day is not as restful as it might seem. With my scapulae (shoulders) abducted most of the time, the muscles got really sore. To relieve the soreness, I did some gentle stretching.

Two month follow-up. The gas bubble is less than 5% now. The corrected vision in my left eye is about 20/30 with a pinhole filter. The corrected vision in my right eye is 20/20, same as before the surgery. I can do any work I want, except commercial driving. Not what a professional driver likes to hear.

To get rid of the bubble faster, I should take long walks. I might get my ophthalmologist to give me a prescription that would enable me to do commercial driving, but it would only be temporary. Getting cataract surgery is still the only permanent fix, and I would have to wait at least another month for that.

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It’s my birthday. February 12, 2023. It’s also Vince Gill’s birthday. Went for a walk in Fuller Park with Tonnette, where we spent time together before we got married 11 years ago. My son Trevin came home from school, full of excitement… he was hopping around the house on his hoppy ball. It’s like a fitness ball for kids. I had a short nap on the couch, then noticed the gas bubble is gone from my eye. That is probably the best birthday gift of all.

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My experience of having retina repair surgery came with medical billing surprises. The anesthesiologist billed more than the surgeon, but my insurance covered it. I had to pay several hundred out-of-pocket for the surgeon, and I felt he deserved it. The real surprise came from St. Luke’s Hospital. They billed over ten thousand dollars for the few hours I was in their hospital, and my insurance covered only 80%. This absolutely cleaned out my health savings account. And there’s more bills to come with the necessary cataract surgery. While I’m trying to maintain an attitude of gratitude, it doesn’t pay the bills. Medical professionals might argue, you can’t put a price on eyesight. That may be true, but at some point, medical care becomes unaffordable for average folks.

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Three month follow-up. The surgeon looked into my dilated eyes, instructing me to look up, down, left, right. He said, “You’re welcome. I saved your eye. It looks like you’ll be able to keep your CDL.”

After three months being out of work, and no light at the end of the tunnel (to borrow a cliche), I didn’t know what to say.

I think I said “Thank you.”

The surgeon reminded me, “The next part of your healing journey will be cataract surgery.”

Yeah, I’ve had that in the back of my mind for the last three months. It seemed fortunate that the cataract clinic had an opening for me the next week, or I’d have to wait another month for a consultation. They’re that busy. Alas, that was only the consultation; the actual surgery would be two weeks after that. More healing for three weeks after that. Delays, delays, delays.

Maybe I was sinking into depression; it wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe it was an epiphany, that moved me to start getting my affairs in order, or as Tim McGraw might say, Live Like You Were Dying. That doesn’t mean I went skydiving or Rocky Mountain climbing, but I’m thinking carefully before I speak. I used an online service to prepare a last will and testament.

Modern cataract surgery is very quick. They completely remove the natural clouded lens from its capsule, and install an artificial lens.

My cataract surgeon was Ryan Barrett. His lobby or waiting rooms in the clinic had probably 10 patients when I arrived. There were 20 or more patients by the time I left. All of them were elderly folks, near my age. Eye surgery is big business here.

Did I want cataract surgery on both eyes? It was the first thing Dr. Barrett would ask me. The answer to that would determine whether I could forget eyeglasses for the rest of my life. You see, he could put perfect 20/20 distance vision lenses in each eye, but he wouldn’t leave one eye with a vastly different focal point than the other. The reason, he explained, was that most people’s brain couldn’t handle that. I’m still not sure I understand that, but I trust in his judgment.

What I did know: I’m not independently wealthy. I rely on insurance to cover most of my medical costs. It irks me to get surprise medical bills, or balance billing. While my left eye surgery is clearly medically necessary, having right eye surgery would probably be elective, or NOT medically necessary. So I told the doctor, “Let’s just take care of the left eye.” I understood he could put a -2 prescription lens in my left eye, and leave my right eye unchanged, needing a -4 corrective lens. I would still need eyeglasses for commercial driving.

Three days prior to the scheduled surgery, I shaved off my eyebrows. I began putting prescription eye drops in my left eye, which seemed to give me hot flashes, elevated my blood pressure, and gave me headaches. Some might argue those symptoms can be caused by nerves and anxiety. I withdrew 1000 dollars cash from my bank, to bring with me to the Hollingshead Barrett Eye Center. They want my portion of the bill paid up front, and if I used any kind of bank card, they would charge an extra 3%.

To prep me for surgery, a nurse wiped a disinfectant over my left eye several times. That’s the likely source of a piece of lint that appeared floating in my left eye following the cataract surgery.

The only painful thing that day was getting an IV tube stuck in my arm. Didn’t feel much of anything in my eye.

Although the surgery was a success, I was an emotional wreck. I could not sleep straight through the night. My wife complained that I was yelling at her. I complained she was yelling at me. I was hyper-sensitive to things that wouldn’t normally bother me. At various times, I couldn’t catch my breath, and had to get outside. I would take long walks, without an end-goal in mind.

On Easter Sunday, I was hyper-emotional all day, especially hearing the children sing “Gethsemane” in church.

I had to put three types of eye drops into the left eye, each four times a day: ketorolac, prednisolone acetate, and ofloxacin. From a prior encounter with my wife, she decided my medecine was getting into my bodily fluids, and causing her irritation. She didn’t want to have sex with me.

Had my last visit to the eye clinic April 16. The same day I received a letter from New York Life, explaining that they received notice that I could return to work on April 1. So they cut off my short term disability benefits as of April 1. What notice were they talking about? It was from my cataract surgeon. He filled out a return-to-work form I requested the last week of March, and faxed it to New York Life. I didn’t see it at the time. It was no good to me, because it had restrictions that prevented me from being a commercial truck driver. In theory, I could work at an office cubicle, or waiting tables at a restaurant, or doing massage and bodywork. Those aren’t MY jobs anymore; however, New York Life assumed I was totally good to go.

The examining eye doctor provided me a fresh fitness for duty form (without restrictions) and a copy of that insurance return-to-work form, which should NOT have been filled out 18 days ago.

This was my ticket to return to work. I’ve been unable to drive trucks over 4 months, now suddenly I can. Shouldn’t I be happy?