Is Baseball about winning? Or is it about something else? Author Joseph Shaw tells a story of generations linked through America’s pastime.
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I’m going under the knife. Again.
This will be the third surgery in less than 18 months. The first was in July ‘11 for a digestive issue that had been bothering me for several years. Result: all cleared up! The second was after I fell down the steps in January. Results: still limping but at least I can walk (kinda).
This time, I’m excited about the surgery. In a little less than three weeks, I’ll be the recipient of some dead guy’s cornea. Due to a degenerative corneal disease, I’ve been legally blind in my left eye for three years, and mostly blind in my left eye since Bill Clinton was president.
I started noticing something was wrong way back in high school when those 3-D posters started popping up everywhere. They looked like bad Jackson Pollock paintings and I’d think “What the heck is that?” My friends thought they were cool. “That’s neat!” they’d say. “Look at that dinghy!”
It took me a while to realize they were serious and not just making suggestive jokes at my expense.
After a while, I noticed something was wrong. I’d go for walks in the park close to my college apartment and, when I looked at the leaves, I could see a distinct difference between camera 1 (left eye) and camera 2 (right eye). Driving at night became increasingly difficult, and I never quite got the hang of first-person-shooter video games because people were always jumping out of dark corners to shoot me in the back of the head.
I hate it when that happens.
I went to the eye doctor and was quickly diagnosed with Kerataconus. Kerataconus is a degenerative corneal disease in which your cornea this and distends like one of those volcano islands in the pacific. It’s always changing, so your new prescription lasts maybe six months. There was no known cure at the time. My only options were: hope it stops, wait for my eyeball to explode so I could have surgery.
Thus, I dubbed the disease “Exploding Eyeball Syndrome” or EES for short.
I found a really good eye doctor here in Columbus and we managed my increasingly poor eyesight for several years, starting with thick glasses then moving through a series of expensive (but thankfully covered by insurance) custom contacts until about two years ago when the contact in my left eye just wouldn’t stay in. I’ve been “driving home with one headlight” for the last two years now and, while I’m usually okay, I get lots of headaches and the sight in my left eye has regressed to the point where I can only see are the kinds of things that inhabit Tim Burton’s nightmares: kinda scary, but mostly strange and sometimes oddly endearing.
At my most recent visit, The Really Good Eye Doc(tm) told me he couldn’t help me any more, and that I’d probably need surgery. I saw the surgeon earlier this week and I’m scheduled for early November.
Despite the fact that having somebody cut out part of my eyeball with a scalpel and replace it with some dead guy’s cornea sounds about as much fun as having Mike Tyson punch me in the face for an hour, I’m excited. For one … pain meds! For two … I’ll be able to see things again.
Back when my contacts worked, I always looked forward to the day when I got the new set. I’d walk outside and everything looked more Real™. It was weird. It reminded me of the time we first got a big screen television with HD. We’d had this small television set for years and, sure, the picture was kinda blurry, but that’s how it always was so we were used to it. Then we got the new television! We’d flip that baby on and stare in wonder as even commercials for Bob Johnson’s used car lot seem like works of art.
Imagine that, but with everything, not just on t.v.
I’m looking forward to later this year, when I can take the bandages off my eye and look at my wife and my kids, seeing them as they really are, not just the balls of blurriness they’ve become. I can’t tell you how excited I am for that day.
I might also get to see what those 3-D posters were all about, too.
Gravity is a cruel mistress. She tempts. She teases. She torments.
I learned my lesson earlier this year when I was on my way to the basement to do some laundry. I got halfway down the steps, stuck my foot where I thought the next step would be. The only problem was it wasn’t there. I missed, and that’s when Gravity reached out from the depths with her icy hand and pulled me to the ground below. My knee when CRUNCH. I went “AHHH” and I hit the floor hard, like a sack of wet meat.
At the hospital, they said I tore my patella tendon, which is what holds your kneecap in place and let’s you do fun stuff like stand and walk and kick things. I had surgery followed by several months in the torture chamber known as “Physical Therapy” and, even though I’m still limping, I’m finally on the mend
It’s been a long road, and I learned three lessons along the way that have helped me get through. They might help you, too, should you find yourself on the wrong end of Gravity’s good graces.
Lesson #1: There are 256 divets in the ceiling above the couch in my living room. I know. I counted each and every one of them … many…many times.
Everything slows down after an injury. I knew that. But I wasn’t prepared for just how slow things can be. Just getting out of bed was an ordeal. And showering? Lord have mercy! You can’t just get in and get out. You have to find a way to maneuver over the lip of the tub without falling, which is especially difficult when you’re naked and dripping wet.
I’m sorry for the image of me that leaves in your heads, but it had to be done.
There’s a process for everything: getting up the steps, getting into a car, sitting down to eat, using the bathroom. It’s exhausting. Sometimes it’s easier to just lie on the couch and count the divets.
But if you hang in there long enough, eventually it gets better. The crutches go away you think, “Yes! I can do all the things I used to do!”
Which leads us right into lesson #2: You can’t.
You might think you can finally get back to normal life, but you can’t. Not yet, anyway. Here’s what I’m talking about…
I was late for work, and I couldn’t find my keys. My wife had already left, so I was stuck. Then I remembered the bus stop down the street.
“It’s only a half mile,” I thought. “I can walk that, right?”
No. I couldn’t. I got just a few blocks away and I was stumbling along, drenched in sweat, waving at passing cars like it was Mardi Gras in New Orleans and I was on the main float. I got to where I could see the bus stop when I hear a familiar “woop wop” behind me.
Uh oh. The police.
“Was I speeding, officer?”
“We had complaints of a disturbed man wandering down this street,” he says.
“Well I saw this one guy in a speedo running the other way not too long ago and … OH you’re talking about me, aren’t you?”
“Uh huh,” he says with his arms crossed in front of him. “Sir, I’m going to need you to walk this straight line.”
I put my arms out like I’m walking a tightrope and stumble along the imaginary line the police officer drew in front of me.
“You don’t understand,” I tell him. “I fell down the steps, ripped my patella tendon. I had knee surgery so I just LOOK like I’m drunk.”
“Uh huh,” he says, writing something in his notebook. “Sir, please touch your fingers to your nose.”
I alternate hands, touching my nose perfectly.
“I’m only out walking ‘cause I lost my keys,” I tell him. “I have a meeting at work and I’m late, so I was in a hurry.” I lean over to look the police officer in the eye.
“You know how that goes, right officer?” When I lean back, I accidentally hit myself in the face with my own hand. My eyes start to water.
“Uh huh,” he says, opening the door to his car. “Sir. I’m going to need to you to come with me.”
“Wait wait wait! I can prove it! I have a scar on my leg! Look!”
I start to remove my pants and get them halfway to my knees with it finally occurs to me that if I’m trying to convince this man I’m not drunk or mentally distubed, disrobing in public is not the best way to accomplish my goal. I crumble.
“I’m sorry, officer. It’s been a horrible day and I have this meeting and I lost my keys and my knee is killing me …. And … I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”
“Patella tendon, huh? I tore mine last year playing basketball.”
“Oh thank God!” I said. “Not that you hurt your knee… I mean..”
“It’s fine. I’ll give you a ride … And sir?
“ Please keep your pants on.”
Lesson #2: If you think you can… you can’t. Remember that.
Lesson #3: Just like your knees, Pride goeth before a fall
We were building backyard playset for the kids. They delivered the lumber and I was in the process of moving it into the garage nice and slow so I didn’t hurt myself. I was proud of myself for this; too proud, in fact; Which is why, when my wife came out to help, I said something very stupid.
“Look, honey,” I said. “I’m taking it easy so I won’t fall and hurt myself again.”
I hadn’t even got the words out of my mouth before I stepped on an odd patch of grass, fell, and hurt myself again. And that’s how, three months past surgery, instead of cruising into recovery, I found myself right back at lesson #1, lying on the couch, counting divots.
When suddenly I felt a tug on my jeans. It was my six month old. Micaiah. He put both hands on my leg, pulled himself up to a standing position, and grinned.
I wasn’t home when our oldest started walking. I missed his first steps and his first words. But this time I got to see it. This time I was part of the story. And I would have missed it if I hadn’t fallen down the stairs.
The truth is we all slow down. Whether you hurt yourself or just get old, eventually you’ll look at the things you used to do and to say “I can’t. Not anymore.” When this happens, you have a choice. You can rant and rave and say stupid things or you can give up your pride and accept the good things right in front of you.
We all slow down. It’s HOW you slow down that makes the difference. It’s small, sure, but it’s big enough for me and I intend to make the most of it. I hope you do, too.
One last lesson, though. The next time you’re doing laundry, take it from me. Watch where you’re going, okay?
We’re trying to sell our car. I posted it on craigslist (among other places) this morning and quickly received a response. What follows is my correspondance with an online scam artist known as Jordan Evans…
On August 24, 2012 10:15 AM, “Jordan Evans” email@example.com wrote:
Is the car still available?
On August 24, 2012 10:15 AM, “Joe Shaw” wrote:
Yes it is, but I’ve had a lot of people ask about it. Are you interested?
On Aug 24, 2012 11:19 AM, “Jordan Evans” firstname.lastname@example.org wrote:
Thanks for the mail,i am buying this for my son as his gift because i would not be around to celebrate with him i am a petroleum engineer currently on a rig offshore and due to the nature of my work,phone calls making and visiting of website are restricted but i squeezed out time to check this advert and send you an email regarding it. I really want this item to be a surprise gift for my son so i wont let him know anything about the item until it gets delivered to him,i am sure he will be more than happy with the item.I will make the payment through paypal because i don’t have access to my bank account online as i don’t have internet banking, but i can pay from my PayPal account,as i have my bank a/c attached to it, i will need you to give me your PayPal email address so i can make the payment as soon as possible for the item and pls if you don’t have PayPal account yet,it is very easy to set up, go on www.paypal.com and get it set up ,after you have set it up i will only need the e-mail address you use for registration with PayPal so as to put the money through.I have a pick up agent that will come for the pick up immediately you have receive the payment in full.
On Aug 24, 2012 11:45 AM, “Joe Shaw” wrote:
Thats awesome your buying a car for your son. I’m selling my car to help pay for college because my parents dont have any money
My dad says I should be careful don’t want to get.caught ins a scam tho. Can you send me a photo of yourself on the rig where you work holding a sign that says, “Go Mudhens!”
I’m a huge.fan of the Toledo Mudhens.
Looking forward to doing business with you,
Jim “too tall” Short
On Aug 24, 2012 12:35 PM, “Jordan Evans” email@example.com wrote:
jim, i cannot send pictures today. we are very busy and not having the time to be on the internet. i only have a short amount of time. please send em your paypal info so i can send you the money. My son is excited about the car. he should like it very much. good luck on college.
On Aug 24, 2012 1:13 PM, “Joe Shaw” wrote:
You told your son about the car! I thought it was a surprise? How old is your son? This car has a V6 and I think there are laws about kids under the age of 18 driving cars with powerful engines. Your really going to like this car. I’ve had a lot of people ask about it, though, so I had to raise the price to $7000. I hope that’s okay.
I know your busy and I know your not a scammer but my dad won’t let me sell the car if I don’t have some proof? when can you send the picture?
On Aug 24, 2012 1:22 PM, “Jordan Evans” firstname.lastname@example.org wrote:
I will send it soon. Please send me your paypal address.
Description: When Mike brought his friends together to share his big news, he didn’t think he’d be in for such a strange ride.…
He smiles at me expectantly, with his eyes cocked sideways towards me and his mouth half open, like he’s listening to a long and complicated joke that’s just about reached its punchline. I look at him and smile and he throws his head back and opens his mouth as far and as wide as he can, joy exploding on his face, the same way his momma does on rare and wonderful occasions. I smile again, hoping to egg him into another one, but he furrows his brow as if to say, “Not yet, old man.” And just when I’ve about given up hope he does it one more time. We repeat this several times as I change his diaper. In a few years I’ll have to remind him to keep his voice down because its late and his laughter tends to wake up his mother, maybe his siblings (if there will be any) and most likely the neighbors as well. His voice will carry and he won’t notice it. It will take constant reminding to keep from offending people. Just like his dad. But for now, whether there is noise or silence, I see him smile and I think to myself, “this is the best thing that ever was.”