chapter 66: WHERE’D YA GET THOSE PEEPERS? saturday, may 7, 2011

at this point, these are not necessarily “chapters”…i’m not the most prolific novelist while bobbing and weaving between percuset, vicodin, and oxycodone.  creativity sometimes surges when the brain is stimulated, but not by a knife.  i’ve been sleeping.  a LOT.  and hurting.  yesterday was very painful.  today was so bad, i came close to going back to the ER.  i took some extra vicodin, and then upon my return to my last-year’s-favorite oxycodone, my pain subsided and i fell fast asleep.

it’s strange how things happen.  i planned for one year, researched, thought, prepared and came to the world’s greatest brain surgeon for my procedure.  but even with all the planning and an outstanding doctor, i still made a will.  i still designated a Power of Attorney.  i still prepared for death.  and yet one day before the high-risk procedure–with me amidst life’s-end preparation, while all the people back home in alabama were well and safe with their families–suddenly the wind swept down, and killed hundreds of the healthy and previously safe.  in an instant, the scales tipped violently.  tornadoes ripped lives apart, less than 24 hours before a blade ripped apart my head, with a steady hand and every possible precaution, keeping my health and safety perfectly intact.

you never know what’s going to happen…

i’m not having fun in Phoenix, but i’m thankful to just be here.  with people suffering at home, do i deserve to be concerned with less frivolous things, like my eyes?  to some degree, i have to, because it’s my job.  especially since i’m not on my friend’s aforementioned church prayer list (see Chapter 63)–no support there.  on the plus side, i suppose my absence from that declaration of god-worthy needs frees up my own time for personal concern; i don’t have to bother with the list’s extracurricular prayer challenges, since i’ve renounced them out of protest.  i refuse to pray, “god, please don’t let me die in surgery; please don’t let my eye become infected; please don’t let me lose my vision.  oh, and also, when my friend covers his toast in a tasty artificial spread, PLEASE make sure he Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.”

being freed of that marginal (or margarine?) obligation, my primary interest, therefore, is my eye.

we all know our assets.  for me, it’s always been my eyes.  that’s what girls tell me.  EYES.  that’s what i got.  my arms are good too, and i’m glad to have them on both sides; i’d like to keep the same two-of-a-kind pairing for my blue marbles.  but for now, i’m wall-eyed.  my left eye goes to the far left, while my right eye looks straight ahead.  not my preferred look.  the doctor has told me everything will return to normal within 2 years.  i can only hope he’s right.  for now, my eye is shut, and it’s sealed constantly with fresh goo.  if the doctor is correct, eventually my eye will open; also, ultimately my eye will return to its normal axis.  however, if my lid opens before my eye is normal, then i will have to wear a patch, because my open, jilted eye causes double vision when combined with my good eye.  SO:  i may be patch shopping soon.



yes, i use a lot of colons…

ummm, that didn’t sound right.  anyway:

when i go back to L.A., and as i begin to make public appearances, i may have to choose between being two people.  i can either be the guy with the eye stuck closed, or i can be the guy with the eyepatch.  now, upon first thought, an eyepatch guy looks like a pirate, which i am not.  but, i sort of think people will only look at an eyepatch ONCE, think “weird,” and then move on.  however, if it’s an uncovered eyelid inexplicably set to the “off” position, people may be more inclined to continue to stare, wondering what the crap is wrong.  if there’s one thing i hate, it’s scrutiny.

so, what do you think?  which should i choose?  weird guy with the eyepatch?  weird guy with the bafflingly sealed eyelid?  hope to hear from you.




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