Apparently, My Eye Has an Eclipse Now
Another day, another update from the cockpit of Left Eye Airlines, where apparently the in-flight entertainment has switched from aviation instruments to astronomy.
The good news is that the horizon is getting smaller.
The less-good news?
Itβs still there.
That strange line across my vision that I've been comparing to the horizon indicator in an airplane cockpit hasn't completely disappeared. It takes up less of my field of vision than it did before, which I'll count as progress.
But today I discovered another visual effect.
And this one is weird.
I went to a recovery meeting with quite a bit of reading. I spent a lot of time looking downward at the material, and that's when I really noticed something different happening in the center of my vision.
It looks like an eclipse.
ππ
Not the Mitsubishi Eclipse.
Although, admittedly, a turbocharged 1990s Mitsubishi would be considerably more entertaining than what my left eye is currently doing.
I'm talking about the sun-and-moon kind of eclipse.
When I'm looking down, things directly in the center of my vision become very dark. There's this dark circular area that reminds me of the moon passing in front of the sun.
So we've officially upgraded the Left Eye Airlines instrument panel.
First, I had a horizon indicator.
Then, apparently, we were climbing.
Then the horizon started shrinking.
And now?
We're apparently experiencing a total eclipse somewhere around cruising altitude.
Meanwhile, the eye itself is still pretty red, as you can see in the photo. It also hurts sometimes.
Pain management isn't quite as simple for me as grabbing whatever happens to be in the medicine cabinet. I have end-stage renal disease, so Advil isn't an option for me, and I don't take aspirin. That means I'm not casually reaching for those when the eye starts bothering me.
For now, I'm continuing to pay attention to what the eye is doing and following the recovery process.
And then there's my arm.
There really isn't an elegant way to describe today's arm update.
It just looks nasty.
The scrape from my disagreement with my prosthetic, gravity, and the carpet is still healing, but visually it has reached that wonderful stage where someone could look at the picture and reasonably ask:
"What the hell happened to you?"
The answer remains:
I fell.
Apparently, however, my arm believes it was involved in a motorcycle accident, bar fight, and bear attack simultaneously.
So today's recovery scoreboard:
Horizon: Smaller, but still there. βοΈ
Vision: Improving, but strange. ποΈ
Center of vision: Eclipse mode activated. ππ
Eye: Still red and occasionally painful.
Arm: Absolutely disgusting.
Sense of humor: Somehow still operational.
Recovery isn't always a straight line.
Sometimes it's a horizon.
Sometimes it's a bubble.
Sometimes it's vinaigrette.
And apparently, sometimes it's a solar eclipse inside your eyeball.
At this rate, I'm slightly concerned about what tomorrow's special effect will be.
Captain Niel signing off from Left Eye Airlines. Please do not stare directly at the eclipse. βοΈποΈπ