So I stabbed myself in the eye last week. And I mean, like I stabbed myself in the eye. Not the eyelid. Not the eyelashes. Not the eyebrows. I stabbed myself in the eye.
When I tweeted this there were two recurring questions that came back at me:
1) How the hell did you accomplish this?
2) Can I see a picture?
1) I was holding something and gesturing at the same time. It ended badly.
2) If you want to see a picture of my eye post-stabbing check out my Twitter stream. I know some people actually don’t like to look at other people’s bloody eyes (WTF, right?) so I won’t just put a big jpeg of my bloody eyeball here on the blog.
The bad news: It hurt. Like a bad word. Also, I said a bad word. Not a huge surprise, but the fact of the matter is that the self-inflicted gesture-stab happened in front of the entire K-4 staff as I was doing a library presentation. So that means the bad word did too. I think they were torn between wanting to help me and wanting to send me to the office.
The good news: I’m alright. In fact, I finished my presentation while my eye seeped and then kind of forgot about the whole thing until I looked in the mirror later on and saw that I was bleeding underneath my cornea.
Some more good news: My mom happened to have some antibiotic eye drops on hand so I drove to her place after work to put some in my bloody eye.
Some more bad news: Immediately after I put them in she said, “Oh, wait. Those might have been for the dog.”
Despite having the bad luck to belong to someone who stabs themselves in the face during work hours and whose mother hands out veterinarian medications to humans, my eyeball is recovering quite nicely. It’s a trooper.
Why am I blogging about this?
Now I know how it feels to be stabbed in the eye. Granted, it wasn’t a stiletto, or a razor blade, or a rusty nail, but I get the idea. If I ever find myself in a writing situation where this kind of knowledge would come in handy, I’ve got it nicely tucked away in a brain folder marked @##$&*!!!
Right alongside that is a folder marked HOW IT FEELS TO NEARLY FREEZE TO DEATH WHILE WEARING YOUR CAT PAJAMAS, but that’s a story for another time.