On French Medicine
A word of gratitude. Plus: a note on the news from Israel.
I spent yesterday with my father at the Pierre Cherest medical clinic in the lovely suburb of Neuilly. He was there to have a cataract removed from his left eye. The procedure went flawlessly, just as it did when they removed a cataract from his right eye, two weeks ago.
After the first one, he sent this message to my brother:
The world now seems to explode with colors that I have apparently not seen for years. From the point of view of my right eye, everything is brilliant, light filled, and crisp; and from the point of view of my left eye, everything is drab, brown, dull, muted. I cannot imagine a better, more satisfying result. My reading glasses are now of the wrong prescription for my right eye; but for reasons I can’t figure out, I can now read easily with those very same glasses, the letters crisp on the page. I am eager to get the second eye done as quickly as possible. Just a wonderful improvement in my vision.
I am now looking at my computer screen: my but the letters are crisp as razor edges and what a remarkable panoply of colors Chrome seems to offer!
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