01 Feb Donor Of My Cornea Transplant Might Not Have Been Human
I’ll spare you the details. Allergy season into itchy eye plus me being dumb as hell equals ouchie times. Medical mumbo jumbos ensued, and next I saw my face in the mirror my left eye had got zig-zag stitches lining the perimeter of the circular area. Cool.
The next few months was filled with lots of eyedrops, painkillers, and slapping my dominant hand to stop the impulse to rub my eye. Wasn’t easy, but I definitely didn’t want to undergo surgery for the second time, you know? I did resume my work as a cook at this small but popular local sandwich store, and mostly shielded my eye with firmly taped eyepad. Ha ha, look, Jack’s a cyclops. Guess he’s not going as a pumpkin for this year’s Halloween! Yeah, fuck you, too, Betty, I can hear you at the cash register THROUGH the damn window. Y’ain’t funny.
My vision was recovering well, and I was happy that the pain had started to subside.
Oh boy. Sure wasn’t happy for long.
Jason, busboy doubling as a waiter, only 18 at the time, came running at me with plates stacked in his arms.
“Chef, two more bacon-wrapped-triple-cheese-deluxe–HOLY SHIT!” He shouted, plates dropping and crashing, somehow louder than Betty’s incessant chattering. I laughed internally as she dropped her jaw.
“Uh, you uh, okay?” I asked, pausing my frying and wiping my brow.
He just stood there, petrified. Must have been a solid twenty seconds before he slapped his face back to reality.
“I swear your eye just turned all black there for a second, chef. The one you had injured earlier this year.”
“What? No, you seeing things? Maybe you need your eyes checked?”
I laughed and pretended to peel his eyes open, when I saw it myself. Jason’s right eye had turned all black, only for a single second; next he blinked, it was normal.
“…I’ll clean this up.” He nervously scurried away.
I spent the night staring at myself in the mirror and questioning if I was going insane. Unfortunately I wasn’t.
The headache came at midnight, and it nearly split my head. Had to down what few painkillers I had to suppress it, or else I might have died from the head-splitting pain. My vision went blurry again, and I had thought that maybe the surgery was a failure after all. I vomited, closed my eyes, and went to sleep, hoping I’d wake up tomorrow better, because fuck driving right now to the hospital at this condition.
When I woke up, my sight was no longer that of a human. I could no longer tell what was going on at first, since I seemed to see things that were moving, even when I was laying still on my bed. I closed my injured eye to see if the other one was working fine; yep, still worked okay. I closed my okay eye to see if the injured eye was working fine.
I saw Jason’s hand, and I knew this because of the tattoo on his arm, reaching out for a cup of coffee in what seemed to be his apartment. He seemed to sit, before picking up his phone. I couldn’t look away; I was literally looking into his private messages (no, not going to describe them; yes, they were your typical awful teenage things) and everything else he was seeing through his right eye. I closed my eye when he went to the bathroom, because no. Just no.
So there I was, laying on my bed naked, denying what I had just seen, and half-lamenting that I’ll never have a pair of good eyes for normal vision ever again. Seriously, what was I supposed to do? Go to the hospital, again? Doc, see, my eye went all demon-like and now it’s letting me see things. What do I see? Oh, look, a teen jacking it off in his room for the fourth time today, maybe we can call him to verify it, I can even tell you the pornhub link if you don’t believe me.
Shit. Whatever. I went to work with another eyepad; I had no business peeping into Jason’s life. At least he seemed normal, so that meant he wasn’t seeing through my eye, hopefully.
Betty, being nosy as usual, greeted me in enthusiasm.
“Wow, isn’t your eye all better?”
“Not really. Uh, I might have to wear this for…a few more months?”
“Aww…Really?” She leaned over and suddenly lifted my eyepad.
I saw her right eye went black, and realized I’d fucked up.
“You know what? I’m not feeling well today.” I mumbled as I left. Betty was yelling something, but I couldn’t care less at that point. I spent the rest of the day fearing that I’d be waking up seeing through Betty’s eyes, or what might happen now that I had two people infected with my optical abnormality, but only thing left to do was wait until midnight.
This time the pain was less intense, and sure enough, after the episode had subsided, I could see through her eyes, revealing her munching chips as she watched some shitty reality TV. I blinked, and the vision changed to that of Jason staring at a screen playing his video games. Shit. I blinked again, as if switching TV channels from Jason to Betty, and back to Jason. So now I could see through both of their eyes. Oh well. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse than this. I’ll just make sure to use strong tapes so that no one would ever look into my eye ever again, right?
Wrong. Things went spiraling out of my control. What I had realized the next day was that I kept gaining more and more visions even though my eye hadn’t made any contact with anyone, and surely this was because Jason and Betty had spread the links even further. Since then I hadn’t opened my left eye in fear of what I would see.
Surely y’all think this ain’t a big deal, but the headaches that come in the night are a monstrosity, and I don’t know what to do to stop it from spreading further, or if there would be any side effect that would happen to me. I live in fear every day of something horrible happening; should I just gouge my eyeball out? Should I just scratch my cornea off and have it transplanted again? Worse comes to worse, that’ll probably be my last resort.
But I just realized that I need to learn of my donor’s identity, and why they died. I’m hoping that this could help me solve whatever the fuck is going on.
I’ve taken leave from work, because this takes serious priority. Wish me luck, everyone, and pray it doesn’t get to you before I do something about it.
None of us would be happy about that.