My Write of Passage: The Man with One Red Eye

(Act 1 / ~~Scene~~ Seen 1 - 10/31/12)

You heard of ‘The Man with One Red Shoe,’ well, what about ‘The Man with One Red Eye?’

Frank has been having to deal with some interesting health dilemmas. Apparently he had a stroke in his eye. I didn’t even know you could have a stroke in your eye?! I suppose it makes sense. Anywhere there are blood vessels a rupture can occur, so stroke it is.

His eye looked strangely odd to me... of course, no one else could see what I saw. I had no idea what I thought was wrong, only that his eyeball looked unevenly shaped and a bit more barren than the usual glazed look I get from my dear hubby. Frank, being familiar with my ‘quirky intuitions,' made an appointment to see the eye doctor.

Ruptured vessels right over the retina... oh, great?!... vision loss as well. So much for Frank's theory, ‘My eyes are just tired from being on the computer.’ The recommended treatment involved injecting medication directly into his eyeball, in the hopes of preventing the damaged blood vessels from forming a new network of capillaries over his retina... basically blinding him. How’s that for Catch-22?! Needle in the eye... blind... needle in the eye... blind. Oh, joy...

We went to the follow-up appointment fully prepared to tell the snooty, aloof, curt doctor we were going to get a second opinion... after all, this seemed to warrant second opinions, right?! However, after seeing the images taken of the retina, (Which, by the way, was awesome to witness! While the camera was rolling, dye was injected into Frank's veins. Seeing the blood flow - or lack thereof - in action was necessary to fully access the trauma) and the extent of the damage... and learning about time frames verses healing possibilities, the injection was the logical option. Frank was not moved one way or the other about having to go thru this procedure. (Is he ever?) I on the other hand was moved. In fact, I had nightmares for the next two nights, and days. All I kept hearing was him scream as the needle went in - which he did for a brief second. (Good grief... he was 'moved.') Afterwards, of course, he says he didn’t scream... (Really?! Who did the yell come out of? Then again... it could very well have been the sound of my mind splitting in half at the very moment the needle went in... Why in God’s name did I look?!?) The doctor counted down from ten as the contents of the needle was injected. (Yesh... as if an auditory distraction was going to ‘help’ Frank deal with the process...) Frank had to NOT MOVE during this phase. He claims he only yelled because of the pressure he was feeling in his eye. (Uh... okay... W h a t! E v e r! I still had nightmares.)

The second visit I opted not to go. If he was ‘fine’ with it... if he was going to be so nonchalant... so be it. Why then, should I put myself thru unnecessary mental anguish? Besides, this time they were going to inject an actual pellet of medication into his eye. Oh joy... Apparently, the pellet is longer lasting and much more effective. Bla, Bla, Bla!.... INJECT PELLET and EYE in the same sentence, is all I heard.... Sorry, Snookums... I’ll see you when you get back... (Yes, I am a horrible wife... I’ll let you know when his next appointment is, so any of you can go with him... bring tissues.) {Before anyone runs off thinking I’m too unwifely... I actually couldn’t go... Saturday mornings I have a class to attend, which is when Frank has been scheduling.}

Funny thing about this eye doctor... he fills you in on all the side effects after the procedure... like the fact that your eye ‘might’ bleed. (This guy is supposed to be great in his field, however his bed-side-manner is non-existent questionable.)

Our very own Cyclops...

I must say Frank has never been so hard to look at. His vision improved enough for him to look in the mirror and shock even himself. The first few days he wore sunglasses, but after the hurricane hit, he couldn’t be bothered.

Sandy added all sorts of interesting twists and turns, right in the middle of this medical saga. Her path of destruction included our hallowed Halloween. (Now known as the Halloween that never happened for so many sad little gremlins and ghosts. Families in our area were in pure survival mode, by no means in any position to deal with the antics of Trick or Treating.) The bonus ‘fun’... we had our very own personal haunted house. Frank successfully scared the crap out of us, without even trying. We would stop thinking about it - or try to - and then catch a glimpse of his bloody orb and our bones would jolt and shake inside our skin. The one and only group of trick-or-treaters that managed to knock on our door, got a real scary treat.