A local man, Buster Butts, is one of the hardest workers I know. He works at a computer most of the day which demands heavy use of his eyes. Until just lately, I considered Buster to be almost blind. In fact, the cataracts on his eyes were so bad, that Buster had to lean over and almost place his nose on the computer screen to see what he was doing.
Buster owns a high powered magnifying glass with a battery light through which he could enhance the print even more so. He was doing all that he could to do his job, and be able to see what he was doing. Buster could not afford cataract surgery, and he had no insurance coverage so he just continued on. I really don’t think that he realized how bad his eyesight was.
People who lose their hearing gradually act the same. They think that they are hearing just fine; it’s just that the other folks mumble, and the movie theaters have garbled sound. They cope with the hearing loss and begin to miss spoken details. It’s a matter of degrees, isn’t it?
Through circumstances and eventually finding a way to pay for his surgery, Buster had the surgery on one eye. The next eye will be taken care of soon. But one-eyed Buster Butts could finally see clearly. He is now elated!
Buster’s visibility had become so poor that he had almost totally stopped driving. Before his sight got really bad, he would drive to Great Bend and take the back roads. Or if he saw a car or truck that was going to Great Bend with its tail lights on, he would get behind that vehicle and follow its lights.
His work cohorts watched out for him, and they made sure he didn’t drive on well traveled roads. Buster was totally aware of his bad vision and eventually he stopped driving outside of Larned.
Just before his first surgery date, Buster was thinking about how he needed some new underwear for the hospital. I could relate. I always get new undies when I am going to be in the hospital or on a big trip. Doesn’t everyone?
But Buster didn’t want to ask any one to drive him to Penney’s to buy his “shorts”. Oh no. After all, WHAT would they think? (They would think, “Ok, yes, I get it. Sure I will drive you!”)
Buster plotted and planned how he could go. He would take the dirt roads. Or, no, he would follow a car or truck and just drive slowly to Great Bend. No one must know he needed to buy new underwear.
He sneaked away so no one would know. And he made it to Penney’s. Aren’t you relieved to hear that? He bought his new cotton shorts.
When he started back, he turned on the highway behind a car with big rear lights. But, the car drove too fast. Buster went slow. Buster lost the car.
In the meantime, one of his office employees, who knew he wasn’t supposed to be driving, was driving to Great Bend and recognized Buster on the road. Buster muttered to himself. “Oh no. She saw me. I’m busted!”
So Buster decided to get off the highway, take the closest dirt road he could find and head that way to Larned. He would cut across the country on the back roads north of Larned and would eventually turn south on the Apley Clinic road.
YES! Good plan, Buster.
Buster headed westerly. But the bright, setting sun almost blinded him. It is tough enough to drive into the sun with good eyes, and this task of finding the road was almost impossible. Remember, Buster was on a deserted country road, so he was not jeopardizing anyone else. Just himself. Tough going. Slow. Buster was pretty nervous.
He continued on and soon came to a draw with water in a low spot in the middle of the road.. Buster thought it over. No way was he going to proceed so he backed up, turned around and headed back to the highway. On the way, he passed the road going south to the Apley Clinic.
Oh sweet mother of relief! He turned south. Finally, he felt his way home. “I hope to never go through anything like that again,” thought Buster.
Buster added that the subsequent trip to the hospital for the surgery was successful. But he remarked that no one saw his new underwear. He didn’t get to show it off after all.
What’s it all about, Alfie?

“A Woman’s View” is Judi Tabler’s reflection of her experiences and events. She is a wife, mother, writer, teacher, grandmother, and even a great-grandmother. Contact Annie at pprarieannie@gmailcom.