It’s no secret that I am blind in one eye and have been since birth, although we did not know until I was five years old. I’ve written many fiction and nonfiction stories about the little girl who was blind in one eye because my parents saw obstacles when I saw none. I wanted to ride a bike, and I dreamed of those stingray bikes with banana seats and tall handlebars. The ones that made skid marks on the sidewalks. All the Solis boys up the street had them, and at least some did.
“You can’t ride a bike!” my mom said, “You’re blind in one eye!”
The voice they used sounded so much like the parents in that movie, “A Christmas Story” where the kid wants a BB gun rifle, and the parents keep yelling, “You’ll shoot your eye out!”
That was the story of my life. You’re blind in one eye. So, I borrowed Ricky Solis’ bike in exchange for some of my board games because they didn’t have any, and I taught myself how to ride a bike around the neighborhood and create skid marks.
Then, my brother Michael got a skateboard for Christmas shaped like a surfboard. Ohhhh, it was beautiful. He had no interest in the skateboard but said I could have it if I wanted it. I would never have gotten a skateboard for Christmas or my birthday, not after they found out I was blind in one eye. So I took that skateboard and learned to ride it in no time. Next thing you know, I’m careening down hills around Second Avenue in San Francisco near Golden Gate Park. I’ll never forget that feeling of the wind against my face as I rode that skateboard and expertly turned the corner with it – no problem. I even rode it to the store around the corner on Third Avenue to buy stuff for my mom — three packs of cigarettes and Diet Pepsi that came in bottles back then. We did not need a note anymore because Ned and Jack, the guys at the store, knew us and my Mom. They knew we were buying three packs of cigarettes for her. She’d go through them in a day!
As I think of all this crazy stuff right now, I must admit that I’m a bit freaked out. Sixty years later, I have a cataract in my one good eye that must be removed. I see the specialist tomorrow. I have not been to a cataract specialist since I was a kid because I had a rare congenital cataract in my right eye, which is why I can’t see out of it. I became a guinea pig for the eye doctors as they attempted to determine if they could fix the issue. But it was the 1960s, and things were different then. They’re also concerned about my blind eye because that cataract is growing (and it hasn’t for over 60 years). They might have to remove it, too. What will happen when they do?
So tomorrow, the cataract surgeon, or whatever they call him, will examine my eye thoroughly, and then we’ll set a date for the cataract surgery. I will have to wear a patch over that eye, and I will be completely blind, which freaks me out! And what if something goes wrong? I’m out of luck. But I’m assured that cataract surgeries are pretty common and have a high success rate. Somehow, that does not make me feel much better.
It’s time to face the music and let go of my fear just as I did when I was a kid.