I had really good vision when I was younger. Which really doesn’t mean much, since “when I was younger” could literally refer to any moment of my life prior to this one.
When we got our annual eye test in elementary school I was one of those show- offs who’d read the tiniest figures on the eyechart’s bottom (including the copyright date), even after the nurse told me I’d already passed the test by accurately reciting the chart’s top six lines.
But as is the case with various other body parts, with the passage of time my vision has undergone some changes. After a routine examination about a dozen years ago, a moderately concerned-looking eye doctor informed me I had a small cataract in each eye. My response was, “Okay. Uhhhh….what’s a cataract?”
He patiently explained cataracts aren’t uncommon in people as they age, but left unchecked they can cloud or blur a person’s vision, cause colors to look less vivid, and make seeing at night difficult. He added, however, that there wasn’t a need to take any action at that time.
“Well, when should I do something about them?” I asked. “When your vision starts getting worse,” he replied.
During each of the next ten years, which passed by in what seemed like a mere decade, I dutifully submitted to an eye exam, the results of which were the same: I still had cataracts, they were still small, and I hadn’t noticed any changes in my vision.
Actually, I was secretly harboring the knowledge that when driving after dark in the rain on roads I wasn’t familiar with I was an accident waiting to happen, a potential menace to society. However, subsequent anecdotal peer research revealed that nobody is good at driving in those conditions, so I continued to opt against surgery.
But last year my cataracts had gotten bigger, so I was sent to an ophthalmologist, who told me that since I had detected blurred vision, it was time for surgery.
Except….despite my ever-increasing squinting I hadn’t detected any blurred or cloudy vision, nor any fading colors. When I mentioned that the ophthalmologist did some neat verbal backpedaling, listing several reasons why surgery wouldn’t be necessary after all.
Has anyone besides me noticed how similar the words “east” and “west” look on highway signs when one tries to read them while traveling at speeds above 50 MPH?
Approaching the end of northbound I-287 in New Jersey this past Sunday, I saw a large sign advising those wishing to connect with I-684 and I-84 East (as I did) to take I-87 North. Since I may be America’s last GPS-less motorist, I inwardly congratulated myself for having noticed it. Doing as instructed, I eschewed I- 87 South and the Marion Cuomo (formerly Tappan Zee) Bridge, even though in the past I had taken that very span to connect with I-84.
Has anyone besides me noticed how similar the words “north” and “south” look on highway signs when one tries to read them while traveling at speeds above 50 MPH?
Thankfully I realized my error before getting to Montreal, so my vision-related faux pas only added 30 extra miles to the trip.
It’s about time the government does something about this obvious safety hazard. That’s why I’m asking my Congresswoman and senators to introduce legislation that will change the words “North” and “South” on all state and federal highway signs to “Up” and “Down.”
But just in case they’re too busy running for re-election to act on this vital issue, I’ll see if I can remember where I put that ophthalmologist’s phone number.
Andy YoungReturn to main page
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