With my left eye closed, moving my eyeball from right to left created a flash of light on the left side of my field of vision. It was pretty bright, much like a bottle rocket streaking across the inside of my eyelid. My first thought was that a war had broken out in my brain. That in itself was not scary as mental battles are always present in fisherman. Whether to go on a fishing trip or stay home and do chores is always the biggest and constant battle.
The light only traveled in one direction so either the combatants on the left were already annihilated or the ones on the right were making sure they were the victors. To compound things I also started to see large particles move across giving me somewhat of a cloudy vision. Maybe this smoke field was a prelude to a foot invasion. I waited for the foot soldiers from the right to start marching across, but it never happened.
Being a late Sunday evening the only doctor available was Google. With a couple of keystrokes I knew I could be (self) diagnosed in seconds and find a cure within minutes. Ah, the wonders of the Internet. What I found was alarming.
Later that night when I talked to my longtime fishing buddy “A,” he said “Maybe you should get your head examined” along with other clichés like “Maybe you (really) have a screw loose (and its creating those sparks).”
Monday morning my family doctor suggested an eye doctor. After wading through six Beatles songs performed by some symphony with a large string section, while on hold, I was told the first appointment available would be in six weeks. After I described the streaks of light, they asked “How about tomorrow afternoon?” I found this rapid response alarming.
Any sight casting fisherman dreads the day his eyes no longer perform. During the day hours are spent staring into the water hoping to spot a fish worthy of a cast. Being able to spot a redfish in a clear 15-inch layer of water or the dark shadow of a Guadalupe Bass moving over a mottled riverbed of moss covered gravel is what makes us tick.
Oh yes, our vision is enhanced by wearing polarized sunglasses, but you still need to know what to look for. Plus when the water is not all that clear and all you glimpse is a blue-ish tinged tail, that’s all we need to make an appropriate cast in that redfish’s direction. Seeing those hints makes a world of difference in spotting fish and possibly getting a hookup.
My worst thoughts would be that I would have to resort to blind-casting (no pun intended). Blind-casting is where you just cast all over the place hoping to get a fish to hit your fly or lure. Usually this is a last resort tactic for sight casters. The glamour in sight casting is that it is more akin to hunting where you stalk, you spot, you shoot. When is the last time you heard of a hunter shooting blindly into the woods hoping their bullet will hit some animal?
I have always worn eye glasses since elementary school so if I have to shift to wearing thick Mr Magoo type lenses, then so be it. I never tried contact lenses. I considered them a fad and all of the people I know that wear them always complain about them or lose them at some inappropriate time.
My sunglasses are prescription with bifocals to boot. I have been told I have very good water vision, meaning I can spot fish very well whether it be wading, on a kayak, or on a boat. It has also been rumored I can see around walls and behind my head, but that is because I raised three kids and you want them to think that when they are young and still living at home with you.
It has also been rumored I can see very far away. This developed back in high school when I was on the golf team. On road trips I would bet that I could read the bridge clearance numbers on overhead passes from ½ mile away. The underclassmen never realized that the numbers were on a sign one mile away from any overhead bridge to give truckers advance warning. I made quite a few dollars that way.
After a couple of hours of getting my eyeballs dilated, poked, prodded, squeezed, and scanned, I waited (in darkness at that) for the doctor to give me the scoop. The longer I waited, the more alarmed I became.
Several years ago “A” and several more of my kayak fishing friends had formed a paddling fishing team to compete in the new wave of kayak fishing contests that had sprung up across the entire Gulf Coast. We called ourselves the Paddling Pirates with logoed team shirts, pirate speech accents, and eye patches (parrots were optional). Now I feared an eye patch was in my immediate future.
The doctor finally came in and said what is was not. It was not a detached retina, it was not cataracts, it was not sunspot activity, it was not my imagination, and so on.
What is was, was simply old age. The doctor explained how things in your eye harden, fall off, and float around, and eventually settle to the bottom. He also explained about the flashes and how they would diminish over time.
I thanked him for the good news, paid the bill, and walked out wondering if eating more carrots would help or was it too late for that?
On my next fishing trip I have to admit I had trouble seeing out of my left eye. The “floaters” were causing mild consternation as I kept seeing hints of fish that were really just false positives. I seriously thought about going into one of those huge sea shell/t-shirt stores along our coast and buying a pirate eye patch. With my luck they would probably only have kid size ones. At least by wearing one on the water I could eliminate the false readings.
I also thought about the ramifications of wearing a patch on my left eye. Originally my nickname of “Lefty Ray” came from my high school golf team days and being left-handed. Would I have to change my nickname to “Righty Ray?”
Lefty Ray Chapa is a San Antonio, TX based, award winning freelance photographer & writer specializing in outdoor subjects like fly fishing & kayak fishing. He is also a certified fly casting instructor and kayak paddling instructor
No comments:
Post a Comment