REFLECTIONS
THE NEWS
“So, like, I need glasses?”
I squint to see her face.
Is she joking?
“No, Mr. Paugh.”
she huffs, annoyed.
Her fingers scratch over
the computer’s keyboard
tapping out her diagnosis.
“You have a
very aggressive
posterior subcapsular cataracts.
Both eyes.
You’re going blind…quickly.”
Stabbing at the save button,
she turns to me,
huffs again
and stomps over to the sink.
Her heels slam against the tile floor.
Each clack piercing the headache
behind my eyes.
“Glasses aren’t going to help
and your previous eye trauma,
from the accident,
makes surgery questionable
at best.”
“So, what do I do?”
My brain jumps right to
“Yoga?”
then
“Essential oils?”
I chuckle at that.
“No!”
She smacks the linoleum countertop.
“Listening when I said
wear protective eye gear
would have prevented all this.
But you didn’t do that.”
She moves to the sink
washing her hands.
I step closer
so I can see her
seeing me.
“Doc, I can’t sculpt if I can’t see.”
My stomach gurgles
and instinct brings my hand
to my mouth.
But no need.
The nausea passes.
Her foot taps the rhythm of
irritable impatience.
What an inconvenience I must be.
How dare I
clog her morning routine
with such a distraction
as going blind.
“I’ve heard of
an experimental surgery…”
she balls up a paper towel
“it might be a possibility.”
Throws the paper towel in the trash.
“Reality check.
Your eyes are in bad shape
from that car accident
a few years ago.
I told you to wear eye protection when you work.
I told you this could happen.
You didn’t listen.”
She sighs at the weight
of dealing with me further.
“I’ll see what I can find out
about the surgery.
I’ll call you later in the week.
Wear eye protection Ed.
This can get worse.”
“And lay off the alcohol.
Dehydration accelerates degeneration.”
She sniffs the air with a grimace.
Walking out the door
she flips the colored tabs
marking the room available.
I stand in the examination room
listening to my thoughts
burst like pimples.
How will I work?
I’ve got so much left to do.
How will I get it done?
Oh Ed, you should have listened.
I’m an artist…
how can I create without seeing?
You didn’t listen. Now you get what you deserve.
Glass isn’t clay,
I need to see the glow,
feel the heat…
Alone and empty and nothing…that’s what you deserve, Ed.
You reap
What you sow.
