That thought often crossed my mind, especially in the early days after the eye removal surgery. But as time went on, it fortunately became less frequent. Just to be safe, I have my good eye checked regularly by the ophthalmologist. I find it incredibly nerve-wracking when I have to put drops in my eye. When the dropper approaches my eye, I immediately squeeze my eye shut. It’s a natural reflex to protect my good eye. But it doesn’t make the exam any easier!
Afraid of the dark
Every now and then, I’m still overcome by the fear that it will be dark forever. For example, when I wake up at night and can’t see anything because my comforter is covering my face. Or when I’m lying in a dark, enclosed MRI machine at the hospital. Or when a mold of my face needs to be made for my prosthesis. For that, I have to lie there for ten very long minutes with a mask over my face.
Afraid of the Dark
Last summer, a few of us from the OOG in OOG Association visited the muZIEum. Accompanied by a nearly blind guide, I went along to experience what it’s like when it’s always dark. At least, that was the plan, but things turned out differently. Because within two seconds of being in the dark, I broke out in a cold sweat and my heart started racing at an uncomfortably fast pace. I fled toward the light. I was terrified. I was shocked by my own reaction. Then I got angry at myself for not daring to experience, even for just a moment, what is always the reality for others. I felt ashamed. Especially because I always react strongly to others who say they wouldn’t be able to do anything if they had only one eye. As a one-eyed person, you simply have no choice. Now I was exhibiting the same behavior toward the guide, who also has no other choice.
Apparently, I’m a little more afraid of the dark—and in the dark—than I thought!
Anita Hol-Bubeck
