Since my cataract operation in December, I’ve been living with what I can only describe as optical chaos.
One eye is crystal clear. The other isn’t. If I’m wearing reading glasses, I can’t see anything more than two feet away. Without them, I can see into the distance beautifully, but not my phone, my plate, or the TV remote (which I now operate entirely by guesswork).
Meals involve difficult choices. I can see birds at the bottom of the garden better than my dinner companions. Cooking has become hazardous, I sensibly outsourced red cabbage chopping at Christmas after realising depth perception and large knives don’t mix.
Standing up with reading glasses on feels like boarding a ship in choppy seas. Shopping is exhausting. I’ve knocked things over, pressed the wrong buttons, and broken two pairs of glasses, luckily both from the pound shop.
What’s surprised me most is how deeply this has affected my art practice. The studio—normally my happy place—has felt uncomfortable and unfamiliar. When you can’t trust your eyes, it’s hard to trust decisions about colour, clarity, or when something is finished.
The good news: this condition has a name: anisometropia (which means “unequal vision”). I’m not imagining it. And it’s temporary. That helped.
The plan now is simple: second eye surgery, another stretch of patience, new glasses in a few weeks… and I suspect a small emotional collapse when the world finally lines up again.
Ailsa Brims Art 