In A Blink
The Conspiring Eyelid
It is not very often that one is aware of blinking. Unless you pay attention to that involuntary action, it remains inconspicuous for unknown duration. I experienced firsthand how this inconsequential reflex could wreak havoc on an otherwise ordinary day. Staring at my laptop is an occupational hazard, so blinking does get noticed. And rinsing my eyes with cold water several times a day is the norm.
Freak Accident
A maple branch in my front yard broke due to wind gusts the same day as trash day. The trash guys said they wouldn’t pick it up unless I chopped it down into smaller chunks. It was clear the recycling truck would pick it up later that day. So I hurried to chop it down. But nature had other intentions. It wanted me to be deliberate and slow down, which were contrary to mine. I had my glasses and gloves on as I rushed with the job at hand. I am the type that pours sweat from the forehead with even a slight hint of humidity. But this was sweltering heat. It was no contest. I was pouring down from the head, occasionally removing my glasses, wiping my brow against my shirt, then donning them back on. Then an impeccable timing of two conspiring events occurred. Glasses all fogged up, and with no headband, I went ahead with the motion of removing my glasses. But this time, only as the machete landed on a branch. A tiny chunk flew at my right eye just as my glasses dropped.
Painful Blink
I remember running indoors, clutching my right eye. That’s when the pain hit me. Even when an eyelash gets stuck in your eye, it is painful. You blink hard as you rub to get it off toward the underside of your eyelid. But imagine each blink making the condition worse instead. Every blink turned excruciating. It was as if a blade got stuck in my eyelid, abrasive against the eyeball with every blink.
At first, I thought it was a foreign object lodged in my eye. I rinsed it with cold water. I even submerged my face in a cold water bath. It provided relief, but only temporarily. Tears would form to lubricate as my eye tried removing the non-existent speck, but it didn’t help. Ten minutes into this ordeal, it dawned on me I needed medical intervention. I had to convince myself it wasn’t a foreign object. My right eye was turning bloodshot, hardly able to keep it open.
Intervention
Two hours later, it was clear there was an abrasion on my right eyeball. With no objects lodged and my vision normal at 20–15, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn’t feel anything under the influence of the numbing drops. They were heaven-sent, offering temporary relief as the ophthalmologist diagnosed me. After a complete swab and a few further tests, I got a prescription — drops, lubricant, and an anti-fungal.
As the numbing drops wore off, the pain returned with every blink. The prescription pick-up would have to wait another hour. I forced my right eyelid open with my hand to prevent blinking. It was a doomed exercise. It worked for a few moments, but tears would soon form. It got uncomfortable fast. But I kept telling myself how lucky I was not to lose my vision. It would be a meditation exercise — pain is inevitable, suffering optional. Anticipating a blink has never been so stressful. I decided to lie down with my eyes shut. But the eyeball moving inside my shut-eyelid didn’t give me any comfort either. It was marginally better than keeping it open.
Slow It Down
I am amazed at how fast the eye heals itself. It’s a miracle of nature. And the anti-fungal and the drops must have done their job too. As I woke up the next day, the pain of blinking was still present but not as pronounced. I am into day three. It almost feels normal. But I am glad I can blink without noticing, shunning it away as a background task, something that happens whether or not I pay attention to it. And I am grateful that the circumstances spared my right eye while teaching me an invaluable life lesson. Never take blinking for granted. Slow down while doing physical tasks. Wear a headband, glasses, and safety gear. Do it sequentially. First, drop the machete. Then sit down and enjoy wiping your brow. Otherwise, it happens in the blink of an eye. I am reminded of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and the fortitude of many mortals who have had it way worse than my unfortunate accident. For that, I consider myself fortunate. It’s great to be alive and well. And blink!
Thank you for your readership and support.
© Dr. VK. All rights reserved, 2022
