I learned this week that while not technically macular degeneration, my visual malady, retinal edema, will get progressively worse unless I begin a series of eye injections. Injections . . . into one’s eye, in this case, my right eye. A series thereof, lasting “several years or even for life.” The idea of having a needle inserted in one’s eye, and not just once but routinely, focuses attention on the aging body and its maintenance. (A brother just replaced his hip, his second.) Such maintenance cannot be cheap, and while I can appreciate, at least in the abstract, the high value of vision, I’m not sure I’m worth it. And this is not low self-esteem or false modesty speaking. When do we become an undue burden on our system and our loved ones? We’re always a burden, sure, but when do we become undue?
Okay, maybe not yet. But the question will remain open.
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