For the first fifty-one years of my life, my eyes struggled to see the world.  I got glasses in second grade.   Middle school brought contact lenses.  For decades, l was reading and seeing and playing and learning—me and my blue and green bag holding spare contacts and glasses and prescription sunglasses and the paraphernalia required for those who are nearsighted.

And then, time attacked.  I got cataracts in my light blue eyes—cataracts so bad that I lost my ability to drive a car.  The trauma was almost unbearable.  Imagine seeing the world via candlelight on the wall of a cave, as Plato first described…so you learn to love it. Then one day, too early by most standards, something comes in and starts messing with that candlelight.  The fear and sense of loss was oppressive and overwhelming.

What to do? Turn to the Clever Chicas and Compañeros, of course.

First, I celebrate Dr. Christine Chen.  She’s been my eye doctor for more than ten years, operating with kind patience out of a Target Optical Center out in the county, just outside Tampa, Florida.  She is always there for me and my family. Sensing my immediate despair, she stopped her day, sat down, held my hand, and told me about the doctor who had helped her own father. She promised me she’d help me get my eyes fixed.  And she did. 

Trusting this Chica, I met her Compañero, and now mine, Dr. Neel Desai.  This doctor has devoted his life to helping people like me come out of the shadows in the cave—into a world of 20/20 vision. He builds his practice with other devoted caregivers, and that’s how I met Alicia.  She worked as a Medical Assistant with Dr. Desai for two and a half years helping people like me prepare for life before and after eye surgeries.  Alicia paid attention to doctors and patients, catching every little detail. And she was always warm and kind.  Her mere presence relieved so much anxiety for me.  

While Alicia worked those two and a half years, she was also taking her general education requirements for college and saving her money.  On the day of my last visit, Alicia was leaving the practice and heading to a local college to start the next step of her journey—entering a nursing program to become a pediatric nurse.  As I described my new horizons to her—seeing birds in the sky for the first time, for example—she described her new horizons—taking what she’s learned on the job to her new degree program.  What hope we find in those dedicated to their art—to being creative in fields that drive them to get out of bed and to be better every day. 

Thank you, Dr. Chen and Dr. Desai and Alicia, for the gift of seeing birds in the sky, and thank you for devoting your lives to your creative pursuits.  Your hope springs eternal in me every time I look up.