brandius

It really isn’t that long. Seriously. I write like I’m ten. Paragraphs are only two sentences. And fragmented.

We are ignoring the fact that I am not good at blogging frequently, right? Yeah? Ok then.

While I have a slew of odd tales to tell, I am going with a classic, heartwarming Christmas story. This is one that is great to tell in person but really deserves to be online. This is the story of… my eye. Oh, and it really doesn’t involve Christmas.

What many people don’t know about me is that I am partially blind. And partially deaf. But the deaf thing is neither interesting nor related to my eye.

Anyway. So I was around nine years old doing what all nine year olds do: feeding the homeless at a church in Downtown Houston during the holiday season.

My best bud at the time (John Burger who, if you see him, let him know he needs to get on Facebook so we can reconnect) and I decided to take a break from the awesomeness of homelessness and chocolate cake. We went outside and decided to wage war on each other. Our ammo? Acorns!

No, an acorn did not hit me in the eye. The acorns are not foreshadowing. I just felt it necessary to mention the presence of acorns.

The thing about my buddy John is that he was a pretty big pansy. In fact, if I ran into him today and he was gay, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised. His pansiness is really to blame when it comes to what happened to my eye. In fact, you could even say it’s the gays fault. But if we are doing that, I should blame the Nazi’s considering how German John is.

Wow, this is long. Let’s cut it. I began chasing John and he felt the need to throw a stick over his shoulder. The stick? Hit me right in the left eye. The toppish part—which was the problem.

My left eye, rather than popping out like one would think, popped into my cheekbone area. It felt a lot like getting poked in the eye… by a giant stick. I went to touch my face, saw the blood, and promptly passed out because I thought I would bleed to death.

Next thing I knew, I woke up with my mom holding me tightly. I was in the kitchen surrounded by  100 homeless people. The smell? Awesome. Two paramedics literally went “AUUUGGGH!” when my eyes finally opened.  One got the guts to push my eye back into socket. Then it was off the ER.

My pupil shattered like an egg yolk, leaving me with an almost entirely black colored eyeball for close to two years. Three holes in my cornea and a tear in my retina. I was in a straightjacket for three days to keep from moving. My pupil took several years to reshape and has finally reduced in size, though it continually stays dilated.

Can I see out of my eye? Yes. I use very strong contacts and I laugh when people ask me to drive at night. Does it hurt? Only in bright light.

So yeah, basically, DO NOT THROW OBJECTS AT MY FACE BECAUSE I WILL TOTALLY FLIP OUT AND BEAT YOU TO A PULP YOU BASTARD.

And really, I should not be driving at night.