When I was young, I assumed upon my eyes. They saw everything correctly and I never gave them a second thought. One day, when I was about 36 years old I noticed something that looked like thick hairs floating across the page as I read a book. Concerned, I went to the eye doctor who assured me that the vitreous floaters I was seeing were a normal part of the “aging process”. With the pride of my youth wounded, I set about accepting “floaters” as part of the altered vision I would have to live with.
Some year’s later, severe pain in my left eye signaled the presence of some terrible problem. “Shingles” was the diagnosis and I was dismayed to learn that the virus, which caused the pain, was already in my body. It had been lying dormant in my spinal fluid since my childhood bout with chicken pox.
The pain brought life to a halt and I sought help in the doctors’ office. Continue reading