New Sight

Thursday, March 3rd, eyes open for the first time, well these eyes at least. My name is Gina, and I'm just waking up after a corneal replacement surgery in one of my eyes...

My vision is a bit blurred, but I swear I'm seeing two different scenes from "my eyes", could it just be some weird side effects from all the different medications they gave me for the surgery or is something else going on here...

I close my eye that truly is my eye, and look through the new eye, and what I see is not my hospital room. Through this eye I see an unfamiliar to my memory room, it's nearly dark in this room much to my surprise, because it is day time. My mind is racing this can't be right, how is my eye seeing something that cannot be here in my hospital room. It has to be all the meds, giving me hallucinations, or maybe I'm dreaming. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath, pinch myself...okay I'm awake. This time I open my "good eye", and the cold sterile scene of a hospital room is what I see, just as I should. 

I give myself a pep talk before I dare open my "new eye", tell myself that when I open it, it too will see the hospital room and that all is well...

One, two, three and open...once again I see this dimly lit room, but I force myself to take in the details "around me". There is an open door directly in front of me, I can't see much outside of it, except what appears to be a darkened hallway. I turn my head to the left, now I notice there is a picture on the wall, three people look back at me from it, they're hard to make out fully in this dim light. In the corner of the room is a comfy looking armchair, beside it an end table with a lamp and a book. Continuing on from there the left side of the room has a closet, the door is closed, another door is off to the left of that, I can tell this leads to a bathroom. Now I have to turn my body to see the wall "behind me", directly to my left is a nightstand it has a clock, lamp, several bottles of medicine, I can't read the labels on them, because they are turned away from me. I turn my head to the right, on the other side of the bed is a second nightstand, another matching lamp and a watch. There isn't much else in the room, another picture on the right wall, a pastoral scene. Weirdly I'm feeling a sense of belonging in this room, memories of spending many years going in and out that door to the hallway, coming into this room and these things, my things. Yet, I know this to not be my room, nor my things. I decide to try something I turn my head to the left again and turn my attention back to the nightstand, those medications on it. Now was the time for an experiment, to see if I could interact with my "surroundings", I extend my hand and as it comes into view it's older than my own hand, but familiar still. I grab the closest bottle and turn it as I bring it up to read it. The label reads, "Thompson, Mary Lynn", my heart skips a beat and there is recognition there, despite knowing that isn't my name, part of me is very connected to it, part of me owns that name. Suddenly I remember the photo on the wall across from my bed, the three people in it, and I know I need to go look at it. So, I slide my legs off the side of the bed(s), because I am still seeing both rooms, and all that is in them. I stand up and walk towards the wall, coming close not only to that photo but the dry erase board on the hospital wall that has my doctor listed, my nurse listed and a few other pieces of information about me, but I'm more intrigued by the photo on the other wall I see. The faces now coming into focus, a man that I immediately recognize as Mary's husband and a woman that, I know as her daughter and there on the left of the photo Mary, though my brain knows I am not her, my one eye also knows that I am.

Whilst I stand there looking at the photo and the hospital wall, someone comes into my hospital room, their arrival startles me and I let out a surprised gasp. I turn my head and see the wall of Mary's room, and there in the hospital room is a nurse looking at me with concern. 

She asks if I'm okay, and says I really shouldn't be out of bed. I oblige her and go lie back down, I am use to this double vision already and find it strangely comforting. I'm deciding to try and find Mary's family to thank them for respecting her wishes to be an organ donor, because without her cornea, I wouldn't have my vision back and I wouldn't have been able to have a look through another's eyes.

I close my eyes and rest and when I next wake and open my eyes, all I see is my hospital room, but I have the memory of that brief time experiencing Mary's point of view.

Saturday April 7, I've pulled up in front of Mary's house to meet her family and thank them. Once I lay eyes on it, Mary's eye shows me a memory of her and her daughter playing in the front yard whilst her husband is working on their car, I feel the love she had for them, and know I must convey that to them.

I close my eyes and when I reopen them, both are back to present day. Now I get out of the car and head to the front door, to meet them for the first time, but it's not really going to be the first time for Mary's eye, because I know now for a fact in some ways that eye will always be hers, and I'm prepared for whatever it shows me.