My Eye Now Has Its Own Horizon Indicator

Another day, another update from the ongoing adventure known as my left eye.

The good news? My vision is changing.

The strange news? Apparently, my eye now thinks it’s an airplane.

When I look through my left eye today, there is a very distinct horizontal line across my vision. It reminds me of the horizon indicator in an airplane cockpit—the instrument that shows the pilot where the horizon is.

Except I'm not flying a plane.

I'm sitting here trying to see.

Above my personal horizon, things are blurry and out of focus.

Below the horizon?

We’re still serving vinaigrette.

That lower half of my vision still looks like I'm staring through cloudy salad dressing. So apparently my eye has divided the world into two viewing options:

Top half: blurry television.

Bottom half: vinaigrette.

At least there’s variety.

Meanwhile, my arm from last week's disagreement with my prosthetic, gravity, and the carpet continues to look far more dramatic than it feels. It's scabbing over and healing, although judging strictly by the photo, it appears my arm has been through considerably more than I remember.

So the recovery continues.

The eye is still red. The arm is still ugly. The steroid drops have still failed to turn me into the Hulk.

But every day, something changes.

And today, apparently, Captain Niel has a horizon indicator.

Please return your tray tables to their upright and locked position. ✈️👁️🥗

Day 2: My Eye Has Seen Better Days 👁️

Day 2 after having the silicone oil removed from my eye, and this is what we’re working with.

As you can see from the picture, my eye is still very red and irritated. It currently looks like I either had eye surgery or seriously underestimated my opponent in a bar fight.

For the record: eye surgery.

The weirdest part remains the vision. I’m still looking through what feels like a glass of cloudy liquid, complete with a visible line that shifts as gravity does its thing.

It’s like someone installed a tiny carpenter’s level inside my eyeball, except this one is considerably less useful at hanging pictures.

Meanwhile, I’m continuing my eye drops four times a day—antibiotic plus the steroid. I have checked several times, and despite the steroids, I have not turned green, ripped my shirt off, or become the Hulk.

Disappointing.

At night, the eye guard goes back on to protect everything while it heals. Then I head back to the retina surgeon next week to see how things are progressing.

For now?

Red eye. Cloudy vision. Eye drops. Eye guard.

And apparently a front-row seat to watching gravity work from inside my own eyeball.

Day 2 of recovery continues.