NI HAO! ... KANICHIWAH ... AN YO HAH SE OH ... NAMASTEH ... IYI GάNLER ...

GOOD AFTERNOON , FRIENDS.

I feel honored today to be in the company of such distinguished talent and the presenters of academic research and project reports on eye surgery in developing countries ... and especially to hear the inspiring story of Dr. Young Woo Kang, beside whom my presentation pales.

For I also am here to offer you my personal perspective as a patient regarding my own experience with sight impairment, and as one who is eternally and humbly grateful for the miracle of my own sight.

I am here as well to share with you why I believe that a vision of Rotary must include a strong commitment in recognizing that through our unique world-wide fellowship of Rotarians we have the ability to provide the "Gift of Sight" to millions around the world who should be able – with our help – to have functional sight again. [I give thanks to PDG Tony Zino, founder of the Gift of Life program in New York, USA, who has saved the lives of over 1,800 children, for the inspiration for the idea to so identify ourselves as the Gift of Sight program] .

My description – my recollection – my personal impressions -- of the frustration of the devastating experience of sight impairment – I share with you today in the hope that you can understand better the real-life feelings of those who are suffering - who desperately need the "Gift of Sight."

As I undertake this task, I suggest that I feel inadequate and that no mere words are sufficient .... no words can convey the futility of the brain not registering what you know you should be seeing!! Mere words cannot describe the confusion of the dazzling thousands of points of light emanating from a single source — brilliant colors merging and diverging like a kaleidoscope ... the images of light and dark ... or the blinding headaches brought on by the blur of non-focused vision ... Or how — through the fuzzy haze and confusion of functional disability — and with the unseen help of so many of you — I came to see again!

My remarks here today are dedicated to Dr. David Sholiton, of Sinai Hospital in Cleveland, my fellow charter member of our Rotary Club of Beachwood, Ohio, [today known as Chagrin Highlands] who never gave up helping me --- and who never allowed me to give up on myself;
– to Dr. George Blankenship of the Bascom-Palmer Institute in Miami, for his skill and patience in saving my eye when the retina was all but completely detached in Costa Rica;
– to my fellow Rotary colleague, Dr. John Sever of Children's Hospital in Washington, a PDG who has served so admirably as general coordinator of the Polio Plus Task Force ... and who brought to our district the opportunity to help fund the establishment of our first major eye bank project;
-- to my "big brother" Sam Eammelli, Past President of the Rotary Club of Potomac, who labored so conscientiously and effectively ... coordinating the commitment -- in just 25 days -- of over $25,000 in matching grant funds from all the Rotary clubs in our district to fund our share of the Turkish Eye Bank project;
-- and to my arkadashim: Φmer Ηaglar, my fellow Red-coat PDG of District 2430 , whose commitment -- not once, but twice -- saved our eye bank project in Ankara, Tόrkiye; to PDG Dr Unal Ural, who brought this awesome project idea to our district in the first place from his Rotary Club of Ankara Ηankaya; and PDG Akin Gokyay, who has worked tirelessly as District 2430 Eye Bank Committee Chair on the same project.
-- As well, I offer special thanks to Dr. Pierre Guibor and Past RI Director Bill Cadwallader, whose knowledgeable, dedicated, gracious, sensitive, skillful and visionary leadership in organizing this event have resulted in so valuable a symposium for all of us.
-- Finally, to my family, especially to my beautiful wife Ann Marie, herself a club Past President --- who, despite not being able to be with me here today, has supported me through some very difficult years with my health and eye problems.

How did I come to see my vision of Rotary?

I can see that my experience with sight impairment has given me special insight ... for I see differently now. I don't just see differently in a physical sense, with limited peripheral or vertical vision. I see differently psychologically, emotionally, and philosophically. For I have learned the true meaning of vision by being deprived of it.

And having been subjected to the ignominious experience of suddenly having to depend upon others at the height of my business career, I am humbly aware of my own human frailty --- and just how valuable one's health is to overall well being.

Ironically, I was in Asia on a pleasure trip in 1981 when a group of my fellow-travelers decided buy novelty folding reading glasses. Although I did not wear specs, I realized I could use a little "help" in reading the fine print, so I joined the group as we all trooped merrily out of the Mandarin Hotel one morning to visit one of the many optometry clinics in Hong Kong while our spouses charged up Nathan Road to shop.

The optometrists gave everyone cursory examinations to prescribe the proper refractions for us --- only my examiner first motioned one, then another of his colleagues to examine his results and then my eyes. Finally, he directed me to a back room, where a stern older man carefully examined my eyes, then asked me, "Have you ever had any trouble with your eyes?"

I replied rather nonchalantly that I'd had reading glasses but that I never wore them.
Well," he responded gravely, "I suggest you see an ophthalmologist just as soon as you return home." He scribbled a note on the back of his card, which, I noted as I left, indicated he was a fully qualified ophthalmic surgeon as well. That, plus the urgency of his tone, bothered me for the rest of my trip throughout Southeast Asia.

Thus I sought out my friend and fellow Rotarian Dr. Dave Sholiton my first week home. It took him only seconds after beginning my examination to emit a long, drawn-out “Hummmmmmm” — I clearly had good reason to be consulting an ophthalmologist.

I had developed a severe case of uveitis. To that point I had not noticed any "spots" in my eyes. The "floaters" — as they commonly are known — appeared soon enough. As the liquification of the vitreous increased, I began blinking my eyes and shaking my head continuously, trying to clear the spots. I began having the strange blurring sensation likened to driving down an arterial highway in a heavy rain and overtaking a large vehicle — just as the windshield wipers cease functioning!

A few months later a cataract was detected in my left eye. It developed so rapidly Dave and I referred to it as "galloping." I soon had one in my right eye as well, but that cataract grew more slowly. The speed at which all of this was happening to me was frightening.

Dr. Sholiton made photographs of my eyes regularly, and took them to his professional meetings for further consultations. He referred me to specialists in London, Boston, and Philadelphia — then finally to Baltimore, where I met with the highly acclaimed but controversial Dr. David Knox. After innumerable tests, Dr. Knox put me on a very restrictive diet, which seemed to arrest development of cataracts for several months.

But as the deterioration proceeded, my depression deepened. The doubled vision and headaches associated with trying to focus were so draining — I had less and less energy for anything other than just trying to focus on what I was seeing.

All of this was happening as I was "commuting" between my administrative office in Cleveland, Ohio, my marketing center in California, and my trading operations in London, almost on a weekly basis. I did not have time to be debilitated, and my irritation regarding my continuing sight problems increased measurably.

My business suffered. I tried to maintain an optimistic attitude with clients and friends. And as my ability to oversee my business faltered, it became almost an obsession with me to prove my competency. The mental pressure became all but unbearable as I descended into a vicious cycle of determination to succeed with a clearly diminished ability to perform as I had come to expect of myself.

Within the year, my first cataract surgery resulted in temporary relief, but the business pressure didn't let up. My partner bailed out after the better part of a million dollars of company funds were embezzled by a stock-broker friend of his. Then an irrational IRS attack was launched against one of our investments and against our investor clients. My stress level dramatically jumped even more precipitately, and suddenly the right eye cataract took off "galloping" as well. Only months after the first surgery, the second cataract was removed as well.

Too young at that time to be considered for implanted lenses, I tried contacts. No luck. — I seemed to be allergic to anything put into my eyes. Even the saline solutions irritated them. So I wore the aphakic lenses, and, as heavy and ugly as they were, I was grateful for the ability to see.

Looking for new business investment opportunities, I joined a real estate development venture in Costa Rica. Whilst there, I suddenly had a re-occurrence of blurred vision. Busy with my work, it took two days to call my wife, who tracked me down again within hours, telling me that she had called Dave Sholiton — and both of them insisted that I return to the States immediately. Dave was certain it was serious, and he was concerned enough to make me an emergency appointment at Bascom-Palmer Institute so I could be seen immediately upon my return from Costa Rica. I later learned that he feared a retinal detachment.

It was. When I arrived in Miami on a Friday afternoon, it took Dr. George Blankenship only a few moments to tell me I should be scheduled for immediate surgery. He suggested 5:00; it was then 4:20 PM. After calling my wife, I was carted immediately up to the surgery, just as another emergency case arrived from Curacao. We both learned later that Dr. Blankenship was scheduled to leave that evening for a medical conference in Sweden, and stayed on to provide us his surgical care.

I had been very, very foolish to wait even a moment after the blurring began. I had no idea at the time that cataract removal led to a significantly higher risk of retinal detachment. And I was very, very fortunate in having at my disposal the considerable skills of Dr Blankenship. Foolish, but lucky -- I had no choice but to be a good patient from then on; my wife saw to that!

Even so, total rest and quiet for weeks didn't help my disposition. The project in Costa Rica needed my attention - and ultimately would fail because I was not on the scene or out raising money to support our ambitious development plans on the Nicoya Peninsula.

And very soon it became apparent that the capsules of both eyes were crystallizing. Within a very short period my vision was so completely clouded that I saw less than ever before.

What really burned me up at that stage was the recognition that all of the textbook cases of sensory impairment I had encountered had stated most emphatically that if one sense was impaired, the others became more keen. Not true, I found out – at least not for me! My senses of smell, taste, touch, and most important, my hearing, did not improve one iota. What a disappointment. I always had known my senses were defective, anyway! All except what I had considered my especially keen sight!

My commodity marketing business could not survive my inability to read voraciously and to focus on current issues and events. My marketing partners lost confidence in my as I made more and more mistakes and overlooked crucial trading information - or was delayed by my debility to act on a timely basis. Over time they found other products and business r relationships. I ultimately came to know in my heart that I no longer was the invincible product syndicator that I had been.

I attempted to maintain my business relationships in England and throughout the States. But after almost being run over by buses and taxis and even pushed off the pavement (sidewalk) by pedestrians, I finally gave in and bought a retractable white cane. It seemed only another defeat in my effort to maintain a normal life.

My partners fell away from me, and I knew I could not support my overhead and staff. The firm dwindled even as I still had loyal support from those remaining. Finally, as my firm's administrator was found another position, I timed the closing of my business to my secretary's leaving to get married. — I then quietly shut the doors and felt like crawling into a hole.

Oh, there were moments. If this meeting weren't so replete with substantive information, I could regale you with anecdotes about how I – and other people – reacted to my impairment. I tried to keep my own spirits up by lightening the mood for others. My favorite saying was, "Not to worry; when you can't see any more, you get to do it all by feel!" It never failed to get a laugh, even if it didn’t lift my depression for long. I showed people how to best use a white cane by swinging it wildly from side to side while loudly exclaiming, "Get the H... out of my way!" Or I could regale you with the all-but-unbelievable story of my hair-raising experience driving a car. It really happened – with a blizzard coming on , no less!

Another positive sign was all but overlooked in the maelstrom of my eyesight having deserted me. David noted that the uveitis seemed to have abated, actually going dormant. All that seemed to be left was the vitreal debris, otherwise known as "floaters" or "spots." But I noted wryly that the spots weren't even visible to me anymore because my overall vision was so cloudy from the occlusion of the membranes behind the capsules of my globes.

And the stress on my family was simply awful. No matter how positively I acted in public, there ultimately had to be a reaction. My wife and daughters suffered from the inevitable backlash at home. I know I took out many of my frustrations on them, unjustified as that may have been. Having to be carted everywhere by a wife who had to have more interesting things to do than play taxi-driver to her irritable husband every day; having to have my mail and all else read to me, much of which contained interesting money-making opportunities I couldn't research properly, or having to have TV action described to me by my daughters — all this increased my frustration beyond description.

There simply was no way either to avoid, nor to explain the sensory disorientation – the momentary but all-too-often loss of balance – the constant blurring shakes of the head because I knew what I was supposed to be seeing, but couldn't – the tears that filled my eyes from the energy expended on any focusing with magnifying glasses, which were strategically placed all over the house – all these and more were part of the reordering of my life.

It seemed the only real enjoyment I had was going to Rotary each week – even if I had to be picked up each Friday by club President Mike DeLuca or whoever signed up to help me. At least there I could enjoy the fellowship and help plan events and be involved in community service projects that helped take my mind off my own troubles.

Then, over a year later, and quite unexpectedly, David suggested that I participate in a trial of a surgical technique using a YAG, or sonic, laser. Called a capsulotomy, the procedure was to be conducted in David's office at the hospital, in an informal atmosphere, on an out-patient basis. Expecting it to be entirely painless, no anaesthetic was even called for, which only incresed my skepticism as to the prospects of success. I hardly expected much in the way of results. But I signed a zillion liability disclaimers without hesitation.... any idea or process that just might help me was better than living with my constant debility!

So we began, with me looking blankly into what appeared to be just another ophthalmic examination device. David peered into his own bio-microscopic lense device to the left of me, with my wife looking on through the teaching scope. Zap, Zap went the machine. It sounded like an electric insect-killer like those hung out in the garden. He continued, zap, zap - zap, zap, zap — with exclamations of surprise from my wife and noncommittal grunts from David.
I didn't feel a thing. Zap, Zap, Zap, ZAP, ZAP......

“What was going on?” I wondered. After about fifteen minutes, I finally worked up the courage to ask him, "Dave, just how long is this going to take?" He looked up from the scope and declared nonchalantly, that "Oh, the procedure was over in about thirty seconds.... I've just been aiming the laser bursts at the numerous old 'floaters' in my vitreous. — with some interesting results, he noted. My wife commented that from her perspective she thought that what she had been viewing "resembled the fighter pilot scenes from the thrilling fight scenes in Star Wars!"

David then asked me to sit quietly - with my eyes covered - for about thirty minutes. He then led me into his examination room, sat me down in front of the phoropter - that strange ophthalmic device that we all look through to have our eyes checked for the proper refraction - and started flipping lenses: all I saw was the same old, same old fuzzy, out-of-focus vision. ...

All of a sudden, without any warning whatever, a lens fliped in that I see through - I see the chart clearly - really clearly – I could see the “E”! CLEARLY! I COULD REALLY SEE!

I jumped out of the chair, almost knocking someone or something over – to this day I don't know what – I turned, stumbling against David, grabbing him and almost hugging the living breath out of him.

"I can see, I can see, I CAN REALLY SEE!" I was laughing, hugging, crying, shouting. I suppose I made quite a scene in the eye clinic at Sinai Hospital in Cleveland. Frankly, I don't remember, nor do I care if I embarrassed myself, my wife or even David. I COULD SEE!

All the way home, wearing a pair of temporary aphakic lenses, my wife couldn't understand my mumbling: "A-R-L-3-2-5" , "C-M-T-8-7-9" , "E-J-W-4-1-6" ad infinitum. "What are you saying," she finally queried, puzzled by my seemingly random recitations.

"License plates," I replied. "The license plates on the cars ahead of us." I turned and said to her, with tears in my eyes, "I never dreamed I'd ever be able to read a license plate again." And I can honestly say to this day that I never imagined the pure joy I could feel from just being able to read a license plate...

Oh, there was therapy; there were headaches. I had to deal with eye strain, with distortion, with the changing refraction, with the confusing elements of magnification using the aphakic lenses. An ultimately I had to undergo another capsulotomy on the other eye, but that was almost anti-climatic by comparison.

— But all that paled beside the one immutable fact that this most valuable of sensory tools had been restored to me.

I do believe that my sight may well have been impaired — so that I could see more completely, more perceptively; — so that I could look beyond myself. For despite my many successes in life I know that business success is no goal in itself — for I have made – and lost – a great deal of money in my time; I certainly was not cut out to be in politics, for I do not curry favor easily nor well. There had to be something more, some reason why I had been made whole again, why I was so fortunate.

I have learned since that my humble contribution, as I see it, is to help serve others — to promote and to support those more competent than I — who can help restore sight in ways that I cannot, and to support those in need – whose vision can be helped.

My life mission – as I see it – is to be a friend — both to you who offer ophthalmic services, as well as to the sight impaired of the world — to try in my small way, to tell their story, and to support their need for health services delivery systems.

Was it simply coincidence – or is it Fate – that PDG John Sever – as involved as he is in Polio Plus – identified a matching grant project for my year of service as a Rotary governor — that fit in perfectly with my own mission to help the sight impaired — to establish a corneal eye bank in Tόrkiye? Is this not the one type of project that I could identify with above all others?

Was it coincidence – or is it Fate – that I was chosen to serve as a Rotary governor under Cliff Dochterman, whose theme is so very appropriate to me as well as to the cause of supporting projects to aid the sight impaired — "Real Happiness is Helping Others?"

Was it only coincidence - or is it Fate - that my fellow Redcoat Governor Φmer Ηaglar - would be so strong an ally, and to a committed friendship and dedicated to completing this Gift of Sight project?

Was it mere coincidence – or is it Fate – that this particular World Community Service project came to us from a country that long had held a special fascination for both my wife and me, proving once again the ability of Rotary and Rotarians to cross cultural boundaries, making projects happen despite adversity?

Was it coincidence – or is it Fate – that the International Federation of Eye Banks and Tissue Banks International, organizations especially equipped to assist us in developing the very project we most wanted to establish, is headquartered in the very city I served as Rotary governor? — In the 800 Block of Park Avenue, no less? that's "8" - the lucky number in Chinese culture....

And was it only coincidence – or is it Fate – that IFEB President Frederick Griffith was made an honorary Rotarian in Italy just we were becoming introduced to each other as partners in extending eyebanking to more parts of the world? ... and was actively seeking a relationship with Rotary when we approached his organization to assist us in Turkiye to establish a cornea eye bank?

Finally, was it a coincidence – or is it Fate – that I committed the incredibly foolish oversight of leaving my spare pair of aphakic lenses at home this week as I travelled halfway around the world to be with you here — to be most humbly reminded both of my infirmity and of just how incredibly fortunate I am?