Ezekiel Saw the Wheel by Rosemary Woodel

Ezekiel saw that wheel

Way up in the middle of the air

Ezekiel saw that wheel whirling

Way up in the middle of the air

Now the little wheel runs by faith

And the big wheel runs by the grace of God

And a wheel in a wheel whirling

Way up in the middle of the air

-Woody Guthrie

I’d been having trouble with visual acuity recently.  More trouble, is the truth of it.  It isn’t carelessness that causes me to take photographs that aren’t sharp.  “Tack sharp” as my photography teacher says.

July 19 and August 2 I saw Dr. I., the retinal ophthalmologist.  Normally I see him every three months.  I’d gone back again so soon because I had a new symptom I wanted him to check.   

I’d been in the hospital in late July for three days with a hemiplegic migraine.  Slightly before then and after, I noticed a wheel whirling in the middle of my field of vision in the left eye.   It was like a wheel spinning while the car is jacked up in the garage — it revolves but goes nowhere. 

 Dr. I. looked at his fancy photographs of the back of my eye and saw no change compared to previous photographs.  He therefore thought the wheel was the aura of an atypical migraine.  Not being a doctor, I didn’t disagree except in my head, because it was unlike any aura I’d ever had.  

 

 My migraine auras are active — bright and flashy and careening all over the dance floor of both eyes.  This shiny rotating disc was only in my left eye and remained straight in my field of vision.   As a photographer, it bothered me greatly that I couldn’t take a picture of it.

Meantime, my vision overall was causing problems in taking and processing sharp photographs.   (I was already used to not reading the printed page well.)  On August 20 Dr. D., my regular eye doctor, said both corneas were engaged in map-dot-fingerprint dystrophy.  It took me two weeks to memorize that.  Wrinkled corneas meant that seeing things in focus would be a challenge.  He said that down the road “they” could scrape them or iron them or somehow smooth them out but there was a long recovery time.  Meantime, I should put drops in my eye every hour.

But back to Ezekiel’s wheel.  Maybe I was better able to describe what I was seeing to Dr. D. than I had with the retinal guy because Dr. D. thought it was not an atypical migraine and suggested I see Dr. I. again, which I did in short order.  

For the first time since February 2017, my wet macular degeneration was active again.  This showed up in fancy photographs of my retina, not from my complaints about Ezekiel’s wheel.  

 

“So,” said Dr. I., “Your shiny wheel was a warning of things to come because this bleeding area was definitely not there earlier in the month.  It’s good Dr. D. urged you to return here.”  And so I had an injection in my eye.

Now the little wheel runs by faith

And the big wheel runs by the grace of God

And a wheel in a wheel whirling

Way up in the middle of the air

Soon after the injection, I saw black floaters that look like many flies in the dining room.  Wait, one of those four is a fly!  Now they’ve turned into crows.  I miss the little wheel, but all these creatures are entertaining.  

I will be changing the subject matter of what I photograph.  If I can no longer do macro photos of flowers, I can experiment with other subject matter.  A few days ago I took photos of shadows of sculptures at the UGA Museum of Art.  If they are a bit blurry, it doesn’t seem to matter so much.

Having had significant losses in my life, I make it a practice to encourage a Plan B.  Or a Dream B.  If I can’t do what I am accustomed to doing with my eyes and brain, what can I do with whatever still works?  A friend says this approach — resilience — is one of my strengths.  Oddly, I’ve noticed my photography is becoming more artistic as I experiment.  That is a very good thing.

~*~

Biography:  Rosemary Woodel is a photographer with diminishing vision and a writer with Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI).  At age 77, she is still adjusting to life in what she hopes are creative ways.