“What do you want me to do for you,” Jesus asked him.
The blind man said, “Rabbi, I want to see.”
–Mark 10: 51
Like Blind Bartimaeus, all Marta wanted was to be able to see. She was no whiny yuppie who would be satisfied with nothing less than 20/20 post-LASIK. She just wanted good enough.
Good enough to see the faces of her family, especially the grandchildren. Good enough to take in the vibrant green of the Guatemalan countryside and the eye-catching reds, blues, oranges and yellows of the local marketplace where her friends would gather to sell their handcrafted wares.… Read the rest
The barista turned and cocked her ear, recognizing the familiar footfalls—one human, male, one canine, sex undetermined. She was the tip of the caffeinated spear and took pride in knowing her regulars, including each one’s drink, stride length and cadence.
The usual? Grande cappuccino?
Ha, you’ve got me nailed. Better make it a venti. Long night ahead.
She mixed the concoction quickly and handed the cup to the cashier. Hope you enjoy it, sir.
Thanks, smells great. He took a quick sip. Mmm, awesome.
“Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”
I once had a war hero sitting in my exam chair who had survived all manner of jungle ambushes but was dying from an inoperable brain tumor.… Read the rest
My earliest memory is of waking up around 3:00 AM demanding my bottle. My mother, desperate for sleep, stumbled into my room, leaned over the edge of the crib with half-closed eyes staring down at me, and handed me one.
It was full of Coke, not milk. I grabbed the bottle and eagerly started to suck its sugary teat. Minutes later, I was back to sleep, and so was she.
I’m pretty sure my mother didn’t read about that little trick anywhere in Dr. Spock. She was “winging it,” as they say. What would I want if I awoke crying at 3:00 AM?… Read the rest
(This is Part 2 of a series on our recent trip to Clinica Ezell in Montellano, Guatemala. Part 1 can be found here. The following are remarks that I delivered to the HTI Eye/Ortho Team on March 17, 2010 during evening devotional).
First off, thank you Cameron for having my back tonight. He loaned me his Bible after I forgot mine. I didn’t want to stand up here and scroll through my Bible app on my iPhone–I thought that would look, uh, “unprofessional” (pointing to my Bama ball cap and scrubs).
I just want to clear up one more thing before I get started.… Read the rest
You don’t travel into the Valley of the Shadow with someone and then back out again without being changed forever. The Reaper’s sickle passes so close to your own skin that you feel its wind. It cuts, and if you’re standing near enough, you bleed.… Read the rest
I literally groaned when my clerk handed me the plastic reference card to place on my houndstooth lanyard. If you work for the government or a large corporation, you know what I’m talking about.
Those lovely little laminated jewels have all the answers to every conceivable scenario or crisis. Surrounded by a 10-foot wall of flames? No problem. Just remember–“R-A-C-E” (Remove, Activate, Confine, Extinguish) and “P-A-S-S” (Pull, Aim, Squeeze, Sweep).
Of course, by the time you fumble through them, find the right one and read it, the point is moot because now you’re soot.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he watched me reach around and rub my neck in anticipation of the extra weight. … Read the rest
I’ve received quite a few compliments on my “old-timey” eye exam header at the top of my blog. Glad y’all like it. I think it symbolizes what I’ve been trying to do here at Ocular Fusion over the years (“Just looking around and trying to put it all together”).
That, plus I like black and white, old school pictures. We’ve had a blast going through Mom’s pictures since she died and found some real gems. It’s always good to be remember your roots.
Of course, any eye-savvy folks out there can immediately spot the irony: Old Timey Eyeguy is not really “fusing.”… Read the rest
Number One Son and I had just been discussing what could possibly be on the palms of Alabama’s new Nike Pro Combat player gloves, and it didn’t take us long to find out.
We knew that the Crimson Tide was among several teams that would be receiving the new gear, which featured a particular avatar representing the “spirit” of each team, but Bama’s was missing from Nike’s preview website.
But when Heisman Trophy-winning tailback Mark Ingram scored his first touchdown in the BCS Title Game against Texas, he flashed the new gloves toward the camera for all the world to see.… Read the rest
When I finally worked up the nerve to hand “Hank” some cash, he drew back as if I was coming at him with a knife. This startled me, and for a moment I wondered what kind of fix my attempted charity had gotten me into. Would he lunge back at me in self defense? Or would he start to channel the cacophony of voices inside his head and yell profanities at me instead? I braced myself for just about anything. I suddenly wished I had just left well enough alone and dropped off the money at the checkout counter, just like everyone else did.… Read the rest
I don’t always do eye exams on Catholic priests, but when I do, I prefer to be blessed.
And that’s exactly what happened yesterday when I examined an honest-to-God padre, Father C. I’ve examined my share of Baptist preachers and various charismatic sorts, even a couple of Episcopalian rectors, but as far as I can remember Father C. was my first Vatican-verified vicar. He was Irish too, which was simply gravy on the potatoes.
He was the second patient in as many days to created a stir in the waiting room. The first one was the man with the Crimson Tide elephant hat, complete with long, gray trunk, who came in Monday still high on the fumes of Mt.… Read the rest
Gentle Fusioneers, allow me to tell you the story of how I just missed becoming an Ole Miss Rebel.
It was February, 1991 and I was nearing completion of my residency in Nashville. Number One Son had just turned two years old, and Eyegal was very pregnant with Number Two. We barely subsisted on my meager resident’s salary, but we were young and dumb and didn’t know what it was like to have money, so we were happy. Number One has early memories of us pushing him in the stroller through Green Hills Mall, looking in the windows and not buying a single thing.… Read the rest
It’s not exactly amoeba to man, but as you can see, there’s been a little evolution going on around here nonetheless. Behold, Ocular Fusion 3.0!
Thanks to Greg Kendall-Ball (known in Church of Christ blogging circles as the “Blogfather”) for lending me a hand and lifting me up from the primordial goo that was WordPress 2.0. The quantum leap forward to 2.8.4 feels downright bipedal. Now if I can just get my cranium to expand a few more centimeters, I should be good to go.
The new WordPress theme is “Deep Silent,” (very apropos considering how quiet I’ve been the last few months), and the “old timey” eye exam header is from The Ophthalmoscope And How To Use It (1st Ed.,… Read the rest
Here’s the question: If I could somehow translate Steeler receiver Santonio Holmes’ sublime, full-extension, both-toes-inbounds Super Bowl-winning catch (or for that matter, James Harrison’s “Pass the oxygen, please” 100 yard interception return) into Eyeguy language, what would it look like?
When I hear the splatter of rain on the gutters, I would round up my gear and go for a run anyway, or short of that, hit the elliptical trainer after work.
I would write something–anything–to jump-start my aging gray matter and focus it toward constructive work.
I wouldn’t be in so much of a rush that I would forget to kiss Eyegal before heading out the door.