THINGS ARE DIFFERENT after cataract surgery. After years of increasingly hazy and dim vision - think of a world lit by candlelight - you can see again, 20/20 vision.

Suddenly, you have moved into a brighter and more beautiful world. The intensity of colors startles you. Things you stopped seeing clearly are pleasant once again: the sunlight filtering through the woods in early evening, the delicate blue of your old willow china, the depth of the purple of the butterfly bush outside your window.

Things are different after cataract surgery. The face you had before is gone. Those small wrinkles have turned into furrows. Your hair looks strange, no longer smooth and neat. Of course, the face and hair are new only to you, which makes it seem even stranger.

Dust suddenly appears to be all over everything. Cabinets have smudges. With your new sharpness of vision, the little ledges and nooks will be cleaned as soon as need be. When the silver needs polishing, you'll know. When there's a sudden invasion of spiders - which must have happened to us - the cobwebs will be whisked away in a timely fashion.

On the bright side, you'll only need 25-watt bulbs - a savings here.

For years, you had hoped you would never need cataract surgery. When you were young, your elderly aunt had the surgery. She kept asking you to look into her eye to see if something was in it. You had to keep looking and telling her you couldn't find anything - and you felt so sad for her. More recently, surgery failed for another relative, which really heightened the fear and apprehension.

But one day you know your turn has come. A film has developed over your lenses, a film that causes fuzzy vision. You have trouble reading crossword puzzles. You use a magnifying glass, and the print seems to jump around. You are continually squinting.

So you go to a physician who explains the procedure thoroughly. She is reassuring. The medical advances in this field have been outstanding. You will receive new lenses that will last the rest of your life.

One morning, you arrive at the same-day-surgery facility at 8:30. The painless surgery on your first eye is at 9:30, and you can go home by 10:30 without even a patch. You repeat the process for the other eye a week later. You have had very good care at a fine facility. It's over - except for the eyedrops.

There are a few things you should know before the big event. For instance, a summer wardrobe purchased just two weeks before will be all wrong. The colors won't be the ones you always liked. They'll be much too bright.

Another thing. Perhaps it would be better not to tell anyone how acute your vision has become, to prevent friends from choosing the dimmest restaurant table, keeping their distance, or just plain staying away. And most of all, never ask your husband about his "new" blemish that heretofore had gone unnoticed.

Things are different after cataract surgery. But 420 eye drops later, you begin to accept the "new" face and the "strange" hair.

While living in candlelight has a few pluses, this new world is where you belong. In fact, you were there all along and just didn't know what you were missing.

Lillian Thomas is a lifelong resident of Wyckoff and Allendale.