a million drops washing through my right eye. in waves. each wave increasing the numbness. a needle follows. piercing my eye. to remove any chance of feeling any pain during what happens next.
intricate hooks are connected around my eyelids and then pulled back. my right eye is now fully exposed, numb, feeling no pain. yet it’s quite a dreadful experience seeing tiny sharp instrument hover above and then sink in as if my eye ball is a planet of water that swallows the tiny needles and scalpels as they make their way deep below the surface.
I can hear a faint scraping noise. the tools of doom must have hit the core of my eye. they did and are now removing the excess fragments of my iris that have broken off of the core. I can’t really say that the experience is painful for I feel no physical pain despite the formidable efforts my mind is making to convince me that I should be howling and shrieking. perhaps the pain is yet to come once all the drugs and numbing agents wear off.
I could swear I hear splashing whenever the surgical tools submerge into the eye. hell, these tools may be tiny when compared to how big a human is but I assure you that they are gigantic in size when compared to a human eye ball. the expedition inside my eye continues for what I feel is at least a century – yet in real time “only” two and a half hours. I’m fully awake the whole time.
the lead surgeon asks me whether I’m ok from time to time. I should answer: “Fuck no! There’s an invasion of the machine that decided my eye is a prize worth fight for!” In reality I calmly respond: “I am perfect.” I try to block out the conversations that the surgeons are having about my eye. apparently my eye is somewhat of a mystery to them. I hate hearing that. they discuss what else could be wrong with it. I hate hearing every possible thing that could be wrong with it. still they manage to create additional ‘canal’ for my tears so all the excess fragments of my iris can be flushed out and consequentially my eye can stop getting suffocated into blindness. suddenly I ask myself: “does that mean I can finally cry now?”
I’m asked again if I’m fine. fuck, yes, I am! just please wrap this up. eventually they do. but not before I get eight stitches. yes, eight! I didn’t think one can fit that many into an eye ball. I guess the ocean that is my eye is big and deep enough to fit a lot more. hopefully the invasion was successful. if not then I can at least say it was memorable.
oh and if my right eye fails I am morphing into a cyclops! now that will be pretty damn cool.