My Story- The Day My Left Eye Left
Fall is my favorite time of year, just as it was fourteen years ago as a sophomore in college. I was twenty years old, walking around campus, enjoying the sites, smells and sounds of the season. The marching band could be heard in the distance. Finals were fast approaching; as the semester was coming to an end.
It was a sunny, cool, crisp day when I noticed what appeared to be a flock of birds flying overhead. When I looked up -- there were no birds. Strange, I thought.
That night, at home in the safety of my room, I studied. Something didn't look right as I read the pages of my text book. I couldn't figure out what it was, but instinct took over and I covered first, my left eye. Everything looked fine. I then covered my right eye, and things didn't look so fine. Half the page was missing.
For some reason I dismissed this. As I look back, it was a foolish thing to do. But, at twenty, with a mind full of everything and nothing simultaneously, I continued with my studies.
Concern tugged at my subconscious.
The next day I drove to the small college and found that the "flock of birds" image was happening again, only much worse. My older sister lived two minutes away so I hopped in my car and drove to her apartment.
I didn't know what was happening to me. I was scared.
After flipping through the phone book, I arbitrarily picked an opthamologist. After hearing my symptoms, he advised I get in right away.
Fear coursed through my body as we drove a few towns over to his office. I tried with all I had to hide it, but my insides were in knots.
After completing his exam, I realized just how much vision I'd lost. The quickness of it all was overwhelming.
He phoned Boston University Hospital and made arrangements for my "expected" arrival.
In a whirlwind, my sister and I hopped into her car and were off to Boston.
I'll never forget the feeling as I watched her leave. I was alone in a strange place, wearing a johnny and my parents had no clue where I was. We'd tried calling, but could not reach them. My sister's children were young at the time so she had to leave.
Everything felt cold. I wanted to cry but didn't.
Finally, I got through to my parents.
"Hi mom, it's me. I'm, well, I'm in Boston University Hospital. I don't know what's happening to me but something's wrong with my left eye and they've admitted me."
Tears swelled in my eyes and my voice became tight. All I could think was, I must be strong.
My parents came right away.
After a week of field vision tests, cat scans, medical students poking and prodding me, I was diagnosed with a detached retina. My vision went from 20/20 to 20/2000 (eccentric) in a day.
"How many finger do I have up?"
"I can't see your hand."
That's how bad it was. All of my central vision was lost, and about seventy percent of my periphial was gone.
I was put on heavy doses of prednizone to combat the inflammation in my eye. I was also put on several other medications to counteract the side effects of the prednizone.
I walked the hallways at night wondering why. I asked God to give me an answer. I thanked God it only happened to one eye.
Life goes on. It's been fourteen years since that frightful event and I have regained some of the vision in my left eye. I'll never have it all back, but you know what? I got a lot of it back, even if it's not perfect.
I know that if anything ever happens to my right eye I'll be in trouble. My left eye simply can't support my sight. The right eye compensates for what the left misses. The brain is an amazing thing.
I can only imagine what it would be like to have a more severe loss of vision. Some would be angry to lose any at all. I am simply thankful that it was only my left eye, and not both.
What have I learned? Don't take seemingly small things for granted, like your eye-sight, your ability to walk and talk and see and feel and hear. These "small" things are the largest gifts we have. Thank God for them every single day.
