New Eyeballs Eve

It's late and I'm tired, but I figured I should ramble aimlessly about my feelings before I get my new eyeballs during the wee hours of tomorrow morning.

How do I feel? Excited.

VERY.

And anxious. Nervous, if you will.

Um . . . very.

I mean, it is, after all, my EYEBALLS that I'm messing with there. I can't see so good now. The thought of that tiny possibility that something could go horribly wrong, leaving me blinded for life, is a bit . . . scary.

I've had to wear my glasses for the past four days. The prescription is probably at least five years old, which means I basically can't see much at all. I've been surprised at how frustrating it's been for me, even knowing that it will all be better than ever after tomorrow morning.

Driving is scary. I'm not even sure my clothes match. My hair has been unsatisfactory. I don't really look at anybody because I can't tell if they are looking back at me . . . or not. People talk to me from across the room, and I have no idea.

I think it's true that your other senses are heightened the more blind you are. I can hear just about anything (often things that no one else hears, and no, they are not just voices in my head0, and I am often the first to pick up on a smell (my nose is VERY sensitive).

BUT, I've also noticed over the past couple of days how much not being able to see really keeps me focused just on my little world. Like, no further than the few feet or so that I can clearly see around me. People have to come right up to me for me to notice they are talking to me. I've been hiding in my cube at work all week because I can see everything in the cube and I know that is safe.

Outside of the cube is very dangerous.

I don't even feel funny with my glasses on. I think maybe my humor doesn't translate through these thick Coke bottles on my face. I also think I've been talking louder, like maybe no one can hear me if I can't see them? I don't know.

I've also been hiding in the bathroom come time to attempt to put drops in my eyes, but that's another story.

It struck me this week that there are probably many people in the world in my situation right now, or in worse situations. For me, it will be over tomorrow. I'll have fantastic eyesight, possibly even X-ray vision. But for a lot of people, they probably live with eyesight as poor as mine has been these past few days. Minimally functional eyesight.

It's almost a suffocating feeling. You feel closed in to a very small space.

I even feel like my brain is fuzzier this week, I think maybe because everything I see is fuzzy. I think it's all related. I don't think I would get very far in the things I need to do everyday if I had to live seeing this poorly all the time. I don't doubt that eyesight plays a part in success.

Tomorrow I will be able to see everything, clearly, more clearly than ever before. That thought overwhelms me.

I don't know what it's like to be able to see the clock in the middle of the night without pulling a George Constanza squint. I think it will freak me out the first time I turn off the lights to sleep and everything is still clear around me. Even in the dark.

Sometimes not being able to see things in the dark is scary. I can't see the monsters coming to get me while I'm trying to sleep. But then again, it's kind of comforting. Everything is a blur, so that means I don't focus on anything around me. No distractions. I'm in my sleep world.

This able-to-see thing will be a big change, one that will pretty much blow my mind from the sheer awesomeness of it. But, I anticipate it will take me awhile to adjust to it. I always freak out for awhile when there's a change involved. I've lived as long as I can remember not being able to see clearly. Obviously I'm not as bad off as many, many, many people. But still, it's kind of like a comforting handicap.

I thought about Carrie Weaver on ER (because everything in life relates to T.V.). She had that ridiculous limp with the crutch for whatever reason, and it turned out that she could have had it fixed surgically many times over, but she was always hesitant to do it because she felt like it was part of her identity to have that limp, that crutch (literally).

I'm all for seeing better and doing it with this surgery. But still, I've always been unable to see. I'm used to it. I've always had to wrestle with glasses or contacts, eye doctor visits, packing contact lens solution when I travel. All hassles that I will be very glad to get rid of in just a matter of hours.

But still, all . . . part of who I am. Or have been.

I've always wondered what my blog looks like. I guess I'll find out tomorrow.

SEE you later . . .

C.T.