I once was blind...

but now I see.

Literally.

I spent Saturday morning in the emergency room.

I went home to South Carolina this past weekend to visit with my family... which was great, but we ended up bonding in the emergency room of the Waccamaw Medical Center in Surfside Beach.

It starts like this...

Friday afternoon I took a nap, and I was woken up by an extremely sharp pain in my left eye. I figured it was just my contacts, so I went upstairs and took them out and let them soak for a while.

My contacts are supposed to be thrown out every 2 weeks, but I try to cheat the system and save a little money by throwing them out every two months.

Apparently there's a reason they tell you not to do that, however still not having any serious side effects thus far, I just figured I needed to change them soon.

After letting them soak for a while, I put them back in. My left eye was slightly irritated, but the pain was gone, so I thought I was fine and that the irritation was just a result of the long term use... again, nothing serious.

As the day when on, I started to notice a haze in front of my left eye. By dinner time, the pain started in again, and I could barely see past the haze that had now become a glaze, like that of a Krispy Kreme doughnut.

I took my contacts out, again, and basically just continued to rub my eye thinking that the pain was just going to go away and the glaze was just going to clear up.

I did manage to fall asleep, but woke up a short 2 hours later, by the pain that was now burning.

I sincerely thought I was going blind in my left eye.
This is it, I thought, this is where God gets me back.

Why I sometimes think that God is waiting to avenge me for stupid choices I have made is sometimes just as stupid and confusing to me as it is to my mentor when I tell her such things.

I can hear her now... "Snap out of it, J! Who do you think God is?"

She's got attitude, and I love it... it keeps me in place.

And she's right... there are consequences for bad choices, or disobedience, or what have you, but God isn't some angry little kid sitting on an ant hill waiting to burn me with a magnified glass.

For hours I tossed and turned, and tried to go back to sleep, but the pain kept getting worse.

I would get up and flush out my eyes in the bathroom repetitively, but nothing would work. I started to get scared when I realized the pain wasn't going to go away. Though I can not even begin describe how badly my eye hurt, it took me hours to accept that something was wrong.

I got mad at Jesus because I just wanted him to heal me.

"You healed lots of blind people," I told him, "please just heal me. Just make this go away... please... you can use mud, or spit... I don't care."

No answer. Just pain.

When I didn't hear anything back, I went downstairs, crept into my parents bedroom, and lightly tapped my mom on the arm. After a few taps and a few "mom"s that turned into "MOM"s, she popped up and stuck her arms out like when I was little, and in her half awake voice asked if I wanted to jump in bed with her.

I jumped in, and she held me.

I told her that I been up for hours and that my eye was getting worse. I was crying because it hurt so bad, but it hurt even worse to shut my left eye lid, so it hurt to cry.

We went out in the living room and she gave me some benedryl hoping that it would either help the irritation or that it would knock me out. It did neither.

We sat on the couch, in the dark, and we prayed. She's much more patient than me when it comes to prayer... and she knows her scripture, so she called God on it.

She kept claiming His promises and instead of focusing on how amazing His promises are, I was thinking, "yea, go mom!"

After praying, she went to wake up my dad.

So, my dad came out into the living room and sat with us, on the couch, in the dark, and he prayed.

By 5am my dad and I were on our way to the emergency room. We didn't know if they could help, but we knew the eye doctor wouldn't be open until at least 9am, and the thought of sitting there with that pain for 4 more hours made me cry even harder.

My mom made coffee (it's amazing how addicts will wait for coffee, even on their way to the emergency room), filled two little thermoses for my dad and I, and we were on our way.

After giving the nurse at the front desk my whole life story as to why I was in the emergency room, she typed it all in the computer, printed my name on a little bracelet and told me to follow Bob, or Earl (or some form of an older man's name with one syllable) back to room seven and wait for the doctor.

My dad followed Earl-Bob and I, and I plopped down on the bed in room seven.

Another nurse came in, and I gave her my whole life story as to why I was in the emergency room, because apparently the nurse at the front desk didn't forward the information to the nurse in the back (who was going to examine me) what had happened.

After she listened, she looked me over, said "ouch," and then said the doctor would be in shortly.

"Ouch"... yes that would be why I am here... "OUCH!"

The Doctor came in and wouldn't you know it, I gave her my whole life story as to why I was in the emergency room, because apparently the nurse in the back didn't tell the doctor (who was coming to examine me) what had happened.

I started to feel much like Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke, when he escapes from prison for like the third time, and the cops catch him, for like the third time, and he's hiding in this church...

he stands up, looks out the window, and out comes that famous line...

"What we have here, is a failure to communicate!"

Then they shoot him... which sucks... but seriously, it just proves his point.

I felt like saying that to the doctor about her hospital...

"What we have here, is a failure to communicate!"

I didn't feel much like getting shot (though I did think of it taking my mind off of the pain in my eye), so I just patiently tried to re-tell everything... for like the third time.

Machines in my face, drops in my eyes, and she still couldn't figure out what was wrong.

She told me she was going to put eye drops in that would numb my eye long enough for her to paint my cornea so she could look at something through a different colored light or something, and it worked... the numbing, that is. The eye drops felt amazing, but the feeling was temporary.

She wrote me a prescription for antibiotic eye drops, gave me some percocet for the pain, and then told me I had to go see the eye doctor, because she couldn't really find anything.

Before my dad and I left, he asked the doctor if she could give me some more of those eye drops that made my eye numb because the numbness had worn off... he asked in a sort of "one for the road?" kind of way (I love my dad).

Right away the doctor was like "Oh no, no, no, those are only to be used once or twice so I can get to the eye without her feeling it... if you continue to put those in, it will burn right through your cornea... they're only temporary... a quick fix."

Startled at the thought of a burnt cornea, I said nevermind.

My dad looked at the doctor and I think he kind of laughed at the thought of my cornea being burned out... not in a bad way, but in a way that was like "even with eye drops... a quick fix will never fix the problem."

He even made the comment... "the good feeling never lasts long... this is true in most of life."

I sat there and thought about that, in between my thoughts of my cornea being burnt out, and thought about how true that is... anything that numbs... drugs, alcohol, eating disorders, cutting, sex, porn, you name your struggle, or your form of coping... anything that numbs doesn't stay numb for long. Eventually, you have to deal with the problem... at least if you want to rid yourself of the pain.


So, I sucked it up, and sat with the pain again, that at least had decreased a little, and got back in my dad's truck to head back home.

On the way back we stopped by McDonald's, and apparently I got a chicken biscuit. I love those things, but to be honest I don't remember it too well because I had already taken the percoset, so by the time we left the hospital it was well into effect. When we got home I ate my chicken biscuit, looking slightly like a drunk, and then I passed out.

I woke up around 1:30pm.

By 1:40pm we called the eye doctor.

Her office is in Georgetown, which is 15 minutes away, and the receptionist tells us that they close at 2pm on Saturdays.

"If you come now," she tells my mom, "the doctor will see you really quick."

I jump in the car, still halfway in my pajamas, but wearing jeans, and we set out for the eye doctor.

We get there at 2pm.

My mom drops me off at the door while she parks, and after running into the door, I safely make it in.

The doctor was true to her word, and she waited for me.

After examining my eyes she tells my I have a bacterial eye infection that is caused either from wearing my contacts too long or wearing them while I sleep.

"I don't wear them while I sleep," I said.

She looks at me... "didn't you say you were taking a nap when they started bothering you?"

I was kind of surprised, "naps count?"

She did that 'your kidding me, right?' laugh.

So I did that 'you know I'm just kidding, right?' laugh.

Communication without communication.

She wrote me a prescription for new eye drops that were specifically for my infection and tells me I can't wear contacts for over a week... "you can only wear glasses," she says.




First thought... I lost my glasses last year!

Second thought... It's after 2pm on a Saturday afternoon, where the crap am I gonna get glasses?

She writes me a prescription for glasses and tells me if I order them from her office it will take a week for them to come in.

This math is not making sense to me... I can't wear glasses for a week, so I need to get glasses, but it will take a week for them to come in.

We tell her I am only in town for a few days, which I suggest everyone doing when they need something from their doctor because then they let you in on the secrets of quick service. She tells us of another place, 30 minutes in the other direction, that can make glasses in 24-48 hours.

That sounds great, but let's get real... it's still Saturday afternoon... they won't be open Sunday, and I leave Monday morning.

Regardless of how impossible it seems, we get in the car and we head to "the other place."

We get there at 3pm.

They closed at two!

While reading their hours, a couple walks out, and the door is open... so I walk in, pretending not to know they are closed.

A young man walks out, and just as nice as can be says "come on in, we're closed, but we can still help you out, what do you need?"

I told him my situation and he tells me to pick out some frames.

I started looking at my options and a woman came out to help me with prices and styles. She was very honest when they didn't look good.

I kind of felt like she was rushing me, but she was still one of the sweetest ladies I have ever met... with the deepest southern twang you have ever heard, and the brightest pink lipstick you have ever seen.

I didn't realize it, but she was moving kind of speedy because the guy who greeted me was waiting for me to pick out frames so he could cut them for me right then and there... "we want you to have those today!"

We picked out a pair and while he got to work, the sweet southern woman rang me up... "we'll getcha a good deal," she said, "y'all are so lucky... we always close at two, but that couple before you just happened to stop by and stay for an hour."

That's a pretty amazing thought.

When my mom walked over to where we were sitting, the woman pointed to her necklace... an icthus... or to those that don't know that term... the Jesus fish.

"Oh I just looooove your icthus," she said, "that's sooo purrty!"

Obviously, a Christian. Obviously, a conversation was started.

When the man finished with my glasses, he brought them out, rubbed them off, and handed them to the woman to give to me. She put the glasses on my face, and then put her hands on my head and prayed "Lord Jesus, I just pray for heelin' on this young girl's eyes!"

She hugged us and God blessed us, and by 4pm we were walking out the door, and I could see.

The pain was gone. And I could see.

Honestly, that was a flat out miracle... think about it...

I'm in the emergency room from 5:30-7am. Pain killers knock me out until 1:30pm. We get to the eye doctor at 2pm, which is when they close. They see me anyway, prescribe me meds, and tell me to get glasses that will take up to a week to come in. When we say that's not possible, they tell us that we can try a place in Surfside beach, which is 45 minutes back in the direction of the hospital... that we might be able to get a pair within 24-48 hours. Knowing that they aren't open on Sundays and that I'm leaving first thing Monday morning, we drive up there anyway. We arrive at 3pm, but notice the sign says they closed at two. We see a couple walk out, so we walk in, in which they say they are closed, but ask how they can help us anyway. I explain my story, the man tells me to pick out some frames and cuts me a pair of glasses right there on the spot. The woman places them on my face and prays for healing, or as she said... heelin'... on my eyes.

I basically just summed up this whole entry in one paragraph... which is basically what God did with me when I questioned how good He is that night in bed. He summed up His goodness in less than 24 hours.

I'm not always aware of God's goodness, but sometimes I get a glimpse. It make take 24 hours or it make take 2 years... it's never the same, which is why I can never figure Him out.

But instead of living my life trying to figure God out, I have actually figured out that I should just be thankful... for the stuff that may seem small, that I may take for granite, but stuff that is a true blessing to have... stuff like the gift of sight.

On my flight back to Chicago I had already forgotten that I was thankful I could see... until my drive back to the house when I saw all the leaves changing colors. They were beautiful... and how amazing it was to see them.




I was, and still am, so thankful that I have been given the opportunity to know for a fact, because I have seen with my own eyes, that fall is beautiful.