Will I never see my granddaughter’s beautiful smile again? Will I miss out on seeing my new grandson grow up?

What if I can’t look into my wife’s eyes when I say that I love her.

What if I can’t drive. Read a book. Watch the Mets play.

I’m not being overly dramatic, just pragmatic and necessarily concerned.

You’d be worried as well if half your world suddenly went dark and you weren’t sure if it was a prelim to total blindness.

Which is why I’m sharing. Folks, take any vision loss seriously.

A few months ago, I experienced eye floaters, those black or grey specks that resemble cobwebs that drift when you move your eyes. It was as if I was looking through a screen. All this in my right eye.

Being a guy – thus not the smartest mammal walking the planet - I decided to see it on. My diagnosis was the eye might get better on its own. When it didn’t, and with pressure from my much smarter better half, I got a real opinion from an ophthalmologist. After numerous tests he said this was part of aging and that the floaters and the screen would go away. And they did.

Unfortunately, about a month later while on vacation, I woke up with a loss of vision in my right eye. This time it wasn’t floaters and a screen, but the sensation of my world cut in half. Without any warning I couldn’t see anyone from the waist down and my right peripheral vision was gone.

Reverting to my neanderthal guy mode, I had kept the news of my unexplainable loss of vision from family and friends. Why ruin a nice vacation. But as the days passed and my sight seemed to worsen, I thought, why ruin the rest of my life. I shared with Bonnie what I was and was not seeing.

The day we got back home I spent the next 12 hours in the emergency rooms at two different hospitals with just about everyone in scrubs yearning to put drops in my eye. I had enough fluid in me to dilate the Hudson River.

The diagnosis was a 50 percent retinal detachment. Doctors explained that the thin membrane that covers the back of the eye (retina) had partially separated (detached) from the eyeball.

I hadn’t fallen or banged my eye. Didn’t poke it. Didn’t scratch it. I’m not nearsighted. I don’t have diabetes. So why had my retina detached? I’m a male over 40 with bad luck.

Two days later I was prepped for surgery at Westchester County Medical Center. Dr. Ferhina Ali, a Vitreoretinal Physician and Surgeon explained the operation. A bubble of gas would be injected into my eye to push the retina against supportive tissue that nourishes it with oxygen and keeps it functioning. She explained that she wants to smooth out the retina as you would a top sheet, but you can’t always get out all the wrinkles.

It’s been nearly three weeks since the surgery. I’ve had to keep my head in a facedown or side-facing position to help the bubble push the retina into its proper position and reattach. In time the bubble will go away on its own.

My eye feels like it’s smeared with Vaseline. I can see color. I can see shapes. But I still can’t identify a person.

I’ve seen Dr. Ali for more tests and more eye-drops. She likes what she sees in terms of the recovery and healing. I’m frustrated by what I can’t see. And the uncertainty of how much better my vision will be.

She made it clear that I didn’t do anything to cause the retina to detach and my timing to seek medical attention was correct. I’ve second-guessed myself about acting sooner. But I’m optimistic because my vision, however slowly, does seem to be improving.

I can still read; I can still drive and I’m still able to bang out this column.

And yes, I can still see the smile on Catherine’s face, watch Evan sit up on his own and look into my wife’s eyes, wish her a happy 40th anniversary and thank her for being by my side.

barrylewisscd@gmail.com