Denis Lehane: I've eyes wide open to cataract cutback
Here in West Cork, the now famous 'Belfast or Blind' bus been giving countless numbers of people access to vital cataract surgery for years, writes Farming columnist Denis Lehane.
I can see clearly now my cataracts have gone. All obstacles are no longer in my way.
There is nothing like stepping outside and knowing where you are going.
Last Saturday, I took a few cattle to Macroom Mart, and for the first time in years, I could see what I was doing. Auld Lehane was back in business.
I could see the seller's board bright and clear; I could see the weight of my stock.
For many years now, I have been suffering from deteriorating eyesight.
First came a retinal detachment, and then along galloped cataracts, like the bad guys in a John Wayne movie.
But luck was on my side, for we live in an age populated with very bright people.
The ophthalmology brigade arrived and rescued me.
In the olden days, I would have gone blind for sure, as there was neither a remedy nor cure to successfully deal with the impending darkness caused by the likes of cataracts.
But thankfully, now, in today's modern world, with technology that can set a man onto the surface of the moon and place a fresh crop of hair on your balding head, such obstacles can be overcome.
Surgery was the answer to both the retinal detachment and the cataracts.
The cataracts, I believe, were blown away with a class of a laser, and then, like the way a mechanic might remove an old oil filter, my lens was whipped out and an artificial lens inserted in its place.
I now see through artificial technology. Both eyes have been done.
I'm like a class of a robot, I suppose, with my new eyes, only without the propensity for violence and attempts to blow up the world.
The upshot of the whole thing is that my sight has been restored to a miraculous degree.
And I will be forever grateful to those gifted people who have helped me see the light once again.
All jokes aside, but going blind was no joke.
On the farm, I could not see tag numbers; I couldn't see bolts that needed tightening. I couldn't see forms that needed filling.
I really couldn't see the wood for the trees.
It was dangerous and it was debilitating.
And now I hear that our government is thinking about reducing a payment that assists those who head up North for such treatment.
Heading up North for treatment because they cannot get it down here in the South due to a waiting list the length of your arm.
Here in West Cork, the now famous 'Belfast or Blind' bus been giving countless numbers of people access to vital cataract surgery for years.
Those behind the venture are nothing short of heroes in my book.
And anyone attempting to curb such a vital service is no friend of West Cork.
Now that I can see clearly, the wool cannot be pulled over my eyes.
Good sight should be a fundamental right for everyone.
Anyhow as I mentioned earlier, on Saturday last, I headed to Macroom Mart, where my raggle-taggle bunch of cattle damn nearly made me a millionaire.
They were a bunch really that no one could rightly define or categorise, no matter how good your sight was.
They had cost me very little to begin with, so I was ahead no matter what they made.
I presented for sale bullocks that had many rubbing their eyes in disbelief, good eyes as well as bad ones.
They may not have been the best-bred cattle in the country, but they were mine, and I was proud of that.
"What breed are your cattle?" this smart fellow asked me early on in the day.
"Are you blind, man?" I quipped back with confidence. "They are West Cork's finest."
