A truly revolutionary event

COMMENT

I ONCE was blfind, but now I see. At least, I see much better than I used to. Why? Because I’ve had cataract surgery. Not only that, I had both eyes done on the same afternoon. Scary, but very handy.

I can remember the days when eye surgeons wouldn’t operate until the cataract had ‘ripened’. Then newer technology made operating on one eye possible. The patient would usually come back a few weeks later to have the other eye treated.

Nowadays, further technological advances are making surgery on both eyes routine.

I had been on the waiting list for surgery for 18 months. In order to reduce the size of the list, NHS Orkney decided to recruit eye surgeons from further south.

The operation got of to an unusual start. Intimating that he was ready to go, the surgeon asked me to open as wide as possible. I did so, but the surgeon must have been surprised to see me lying there with my mouth wide open.

Yes, my mouth. For eye surgery. Deary me. The surgeon must have thought he was operating on the eejit of the year.

After that false start, the operation went well. A couple of hours or so later, my wife Cristine drove me home. The next day I was walking around the City and Royal Burgh of Kirkwall without mowing people down. At least, I think so.

I am remfinded of the Glasgow woman who was overheard saying to her companion in Sauchiehall Street: “Since I got these new specs, Jessie, people keep banging into me.”

Having worn spectacles since I was a teenager, I had to adjust to walking ‘naked’ around the streets. I felt a bit vulnerable to begin with, but I gradually got used to it. Mfind you, it has taken me quite a while to stop pushing non-existent specs up my nose.

I am loving the vivid colours of Orkney and the sharpness of my vision. What is especially good is going out for walks with my dog Mansie on rainy days without feeling that I need to have wfindscreen wipers. Horizontal rain is a doddle these days.

One thing that shook me was seeing myself in the mirror. I was astounded that I had developed so many wrinkles in the space of a couple of days. Then it dawned on me…

I love the story of a party in London at which rock star Mick Jagger said to jazz singer and raconteur George Melly, who was staring at Jagger’s face: “No, George, these aren’t wrinkles on my face – these are laughter lines.”

To which the brilliant Melly replied: “Mick, nothing’s that funny.”

It’s not so long ago since we were celebrating the 70th anniversary of the founding of the National Health Service – a truly revolutionary event.

I am proud of the fact that Aneurin Bevan, the iery founding Minister of the NHS, was married to my third cousin Jennie Lee from Cowdenbeath, the radical founding Minister of the Open University.

Talk about making a diference! There is something biblical about giving new sight to the blfind. And there is something fundamentally Christian about providing a national health care system that is free at the point of delivery.

I love the Irish Celtic saying, “It is in the shelter of each other that the people live”.

Deo Gratias.

“The operation got of to an unusual start. Intimating that he was ready to go, the surgeon asked me to open as wide as possible. I did so, but the surgeon must have been surprised to see me lying there with my mouth wide open. ”

This article appears in the August 2018 Issue of Life and Work

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