A stitch in time...

Publisher's Memo

I think you'll find this to be a funny story, with a strange twist. It may also prove that someone is looking out for me, because, as you'll no doubt conclude, I cannot look out for myself.

It was Thursday, December 5, 2002, and I had to be in New York City very early, which meant getting up at 4:00 a.m. so I could meet others from our office at the railroad station in Darien, CT We would catch the 5:40 a.m. train so we could attend an early breakfast meeting, lasting most of the morning.

After lunch, with time to kill until my next meeting at 5:30 p.m., I did some Christmas shopping at Macy's and then took a subway to Rockefeller Center (always a beautiful sight with its ice skating rink and that famously glorious tree).

The 5:30 p.m. meeting (okay, it was the annual Christmas Party sponsored by Peter Li, Publisher of a zillion magazines, including Today's Catholic Teacher) was delightful, and I finally caught the 7:37 p.m. train to Darien. I was in the house by 9:00 p.m, in bed by 10:00.

New York City is fabulous during the December holidays, especially when it snows (did I say it was snowing all day?).

As I was heading for bed, brilliant flashes of light swam across my field of vision. I've experienced the phenomenon before, but this time the lights were brighter, more dramatic.

However, they were gone in a few minutes and I attributed them to the fact it had been an 18-hour day and I was probably tired.

An uneventful Friday was spent in the office, but on both Saturday and Sunday, as I was driving around town, I begin to realize my left eye was not functioning well.

In an attempt to analyze the problem, I'd close one eye, then the other (no, I did not close them simultaneously), and finally conchided that the flashes Thursday night must have changed the vision in my left eye.

Monday at 2:15 p.m I was in the eye doctor's office, where he quickly checked my eyes and found no change.

"But something has changed," I told him. "My left eye is useless!"

"Let me see your glasses," he requested, and after a long pause he commented, in a dry voice, "The left lens is missing."

I cracked up.

No wonder the movie my wife and I attended on Sunday night was hard to watch. Trying to be nonchalant, I asked the doctor, "Did anyone ever do this before?"

"Many times," he responded (Id like to believe him, but I think he was being polite).

"While you're here," he said, "let's check your eyes." After the usual eye drops and a careful examination, he said, "You have a tear in your retina. We're very lucky you came to see me. Very lucky."

Within two hours another doctor had used laser surgery to "stitch," or weld, the torn retina and by 5:30 I was home.

Medical miracles are just that - miracles. I've experienced my share of them, from a very serious football head injury to a heart valve replacement and, now, laser treatment for my eye.

While I'm extremely grateful to these marvelous doctors, I'm especially grateful to the teachers who taught them all they know.

Perhaps you've spotted budding doctors or nurses in your classrooms. Please treat them with loving care; at the rate I'm going, they may be officiating at my next medical event.

Copyright Early Years, Inc. Feb 2003
Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved