Not quite two years ago, I was at a writers’ conference. After I got a shower one morning, I looked into the mirror in the bathroom and was frightened by what I saw.
No, I wasn’t scared of my reflection. That, I’m used to. What I wasn’t used to, though, was a black swirl that appeared. As I looked closer, I realized that it wasn’t on the mirror, but rather, was in my left eye.
Everywhere I looked, I saw this dark, black swirl. It was sort of like a floater, but darker and more vision blocking.
So I did what I always do when something changes with my body—I proceeded to freak out.
My husband was with me, so, as usual, he got the brunt of my fear.
“OhmyGodIDon’tKnowWhat’sGoingOnWithMyEye!” And yes, it sounded like that—all one word.
After I explained it, my Type-B husband looked at me and said, “I’m sure you’re fine.”
I got up the next day expecting it to be gone.
It wasn’t.
Still wasn’t gone the next. Or even by the time we got home.
I texted my eye doc who has known me since I was 18 years old. At first, he told me not to worry about it, but to keep an eye on it. (Oh, Mr. Funny Man Eye Doc—I had no choice but to keep an eye on it. It was right in my line of sight.)
When it hadn’t gone away and seemed to be getting worse, he said to me, “Now don’t worry. (Too late—anytime someone tells me not to worry, I begin to worry) I’m going to make a call because I’d like to get you in to see a retinal specialist today, if possible.”
I followed his instructions. I didn’t worry. I totally imploded and screeched to Brad, “Oh My God, am I going blind?”
Brad, who will most certainly go straight to heaven for putting up with me no matter what else he does in this lifetime, said, “I’m sure you’re fine. It’s just a precaution.”
When the retinal specialist’s office called me back shortly and told me that I could come in that day, I was both relieved and freaked at the same time.
Thoughts flew through my head: They got me in right away, that’s a good thing. But it might be a bad thing because they think something’s wrong. What if they can’t fix my eye? That’s my “good” eye. (One of my eyes is nearsighted and one is farsighted. Don’t ask.)
After I stopped spiraling, we were off to meet the specialist. Lucky him.
Everyone was nice, as different staff asked me about my symptoms, checked my eye pressure (good), and checked my vision (good—except for the big, black floating thing that kept bouncing around my sight).
Then the retinal specialist came to see me. Nice guy, fun personality, and not too hard on the eyes—at least that’s what I was hoping. We’ll call him Dr. J.
Dr. J. showed me a model of the inside of an eye and explained to me what could be happening. I could explain it here, but considering how weak-stomached I am, I’d probably get sick. I’d have to stop writing the column, and you’d never find out what happened. Suffice it to say, it involved some kind of stuff pulling away from the eye and other gross things.
(Now why was it that I decided against medical school?)
The tech had dilated my eyes so much that it was tough to see. Dr. J. began his exam.
And I saw something I’d never seen before.
To be Continued…
Michele “Wojo” Wojciechowski, when she’s not driving her readers crazy by making them wait until next week to find out what she saw, writes “Wojo’s World®” from Baltimore. She’s also the author of the award-winning book Next Time I Move, They’ll Carry Me Out in a Box. You can connect with Wojo on Facebook or on Twitter.
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