Blurred Vision

It happened suddenly. Sitting in my favorite armchair after breakfast I was scrolling articles on my laptop. At one point I looked up, thinking about what I was reading. When I looked back down, I was startled—all the words were blurred. I looked up, then down again with the same results. I tried closing one eye, then the other: blurred vision in both eyes!

Panicking slightly, I took stock of myself: no headache, no dizziness, no weakness, nothing out of the ordinary. Just a slight pressure above my right ear and feeling like I was in a water bubble. Waiting a few minutes didn’t resolve the issue so I called my primary care doctor and was referred to an attending nurse practicioner since it was Saturday. After listening to my situation she told me I needed to go to the nearest ER. Did I have anyone who could drive me there? Since my family was vacationing, I drove myself.

Checking in, I felt a little sheepish since the only thing wrong with me was blurred vision. They immediately signaled that I might be having a stroke and set in motion the procedures to handle the possibility. Somewhere during the process my left eye cleared and my right eye became clearer but remained fuzzy. All said and done (CT scan, etc., etc.) nothing was found to explain what had happened. I returned the following Monday for an MRI which also was negative. Since it wasn’t my brain, my doctor who is an internal medicine specialist referred me to an ophthalmologist. Again, nothing measurable showed up to explain things.

Today I’m sitting in my favorite armchair again like nothing happened. Except something did happen. Thankfully I’ve got a “clean bill of health” and am back to normal (whatever that is). My world is predictably routine, peaceful, even a bit humdrum. I’ve decided to set worry aside. I ate lunch at my picnic table as usual; refilled my birdfeeder; started a load of laundry.

The future is owned by no one. Politics, war, unruly weather patterns—and my unexplained blurred vision—are real happenings that can only be monitored. Meanwhile, I choose happiness. Each breath I take is a gift. Every birdsong I hear is a small miracle encased in feathers. Yesterday it rained for the first time in months, freshening dry ground and filling the air with fragrance. It made me smile.