I’m joining another club.

By Anita Garner

A friend and I share details of upcoming events in our lives, large and small.  We’ve known each other for decades and by now we accept without judgement our differing degrees of anxiety, phobias and fears of approaching events. It’s good to have a friend who doesn’t think you’re silly when you’re scared.

We laugh at ourselves about the ways we cope and endorse whatever it takes to get through it. This has involved births, deaths, falling in love, falling out of love, marriages, divorces, packing, moving, unpacking, caring for others, flying, public speaking, insect and animal frights, needles, eye drops, nose drops, scary sounds in the night, getting older, and lately more and more medical talk.

We both gave birth during times when pregnant people didn’t learn all that much in advance about what to expect when you’re expecting. We marched into the hospital like soldiers reminding ourselves we’d been conscripted by this little thing kicking us in the stomach and controlling what’s about to happen next. Back in the day, older women told us stories about labor and delivery and the greater the distance between labor and the child’s age, the more dramatic the re-telling became.  How many hours of labor?  Is that even possible?  How big was the baby’s head?  Is that even possible?

Still, labor pains were surprising. Nurses were kind to those of us who went into it uninformed.  Yes, they said, this is how it goes but it won’t go on forever. They taught us ways to breathe. But what worked best for me was remembering stories about women giving birth in unusual conditions, producing a baby and going on about their business. I also reminded myself that every animal in the kingdom gives birth.  It’s going to happen.  It’s going to hurt.  The good news is that you get to take home a sweet little baby.

Decades on, we’re talking about a whole different set of medical issues. Now it’s time for swapping stories about procedures that stack up closer and closer together. This month it’s eyes that require attention. I need more powerful glasses but the optometrist said no new glasses for you, missy.  That cataract has to go first.  I called my friend with whom I share these details. She’s already joined the Cataract Club and provided helpful details.  Nothing but positives were discussed. Medicine has moved so far ahead in our lifetimes.

The cataract procedure comes with the good kind of anticipation. I’m excited about the probability of improved vision and I’ve got my anti-anxiety potion ready in case I need it.  I’m remembering reports of doctors volunteering  to perform hundreds of these procedures all over the world and people walking miles to line up for hours to get to see better and then the faces of the patients seeing clearly for the first time in years.

By now many other friends have had cataracts removed.  The procedure’s  so common and so readily available, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.  For me though it is a very big deal to get to see better, something I’ve struggled with for decades.

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*Photo from Cataract Club.

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