Alright Already We'll All Float On

A couple weeks ago, after a long day of resetting and tabbing 6pt type school budgets for 12 hours straight, I slumped into bed and instantly fell asleep. I can normally enter my nightly slumber before my head hits the pillow, and this night was no different.

The next morning I awoke late, as usual. Often times I’ll set my alarm for 7, roll out of bed at 8, hop on the computer for 15 minutes or so, shower, drive to work and arrive about 15 minutes late. Sometimes I wonder that if I had a job that I appreciated, liked, or even enjoyed; would I arrive on time?

But that morning as I laid in bed and began to dread the day ahead, I noticed a weird little spot on the ceiling above my bed. I reached blindly for my spectacles, plopped them onto my ugly mug and tried to get a clearer look. I couldn’t focus on it, and the spot traveled with gaze around the room, as if there was some dirty gunk on the nonexistent contact lens on my eye.

A Google search that morning identified the spot as a floater. Over the next few weeks, I convinced myself that my retina was slowly detaching. I could go blind at any second. Eyeball cancer was growing within me at an alarming rate. I’d be dead before the end of the month. While I’m really not a hypochondriac, I often get caught up in an exaggerated sense of impending doom.

Last Friday, despite my case of extreme eyeball-phobia (featuring a childhood reoccurring dream about my dentist popping out his patient’s eyeballs and one fateful trip to the eye doctor a few years ago where I passed out after they jammed contact lenses into my eyes), I found myself in an eye specialist’s office. He dilated my eyes until there was nothing left but pupil. Then he gazed longingly into my eyeballs for about 20 minutes before delivering the fateful news:

There’s nothing wrong with my eyes.

Before leaving the doctor’s office, I fished my bucket list from the trash can. I was going to live! I’ve taken out a new lease on life! I’ve even found Jesus — and he’s standing atop one of my eyeball floaters!

Apparently as you grow older, the jelly within your eyes can begin to harden in tiny spots. These spots cause little gray/clear circular bubbles and worm shapes within your vision. It seems that although I’m only a few short months away from my 30th birthday, my body has already decided to start shutting down. It’s only a matter of time until another ailment rears its ugliness upon me. But at least I’ve dodged that eyeball cancer, for now.

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8 thoughts on “Alright Already We'll All Float On”

  1. First of all, I want to say I’m thoroughly impressed with your writing. It’s rare that I’m impressed with peoples writing in general, so consider it a high honor.

    Aside from that..”my body has already decided to start shutting down”, makes me sad. Looks like its all downhill from here!

  2. Michelle: You kill me!

    I’m glad you dodged eye cancer, my understanding is all eye tumors are malignant. Not good.

    Welcome to your 30s! The 40s are even better….

  3. Hmmm. No floaters here. But then I had perfect vision until I hit 40. Sigh. Trust me Adam, the downward slide has only begun.

    Good one Michelle.

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