008-Keratitis.txt

008-Keratitis.txt

Keratitis is an inflammation of the cornea — the clear, dome-shaped tissue on the front of your eye that covers the pupil and iris. Keratitis may or may not be associated with an infection. In this case it is.

I attempted drifting off that morning. It must have been six AM, but could have been eight AM. I had a flight to Barcelona at two in the afternoon. I never scheduled flights early in the morning. It was too easy to find myself in situations like this. As I was texting a friend about my latest coke binge I began feeling the burn. It began subtle, like your second beer. But slowly, what felt like a mere eye lash hastened into a burning sensation. The kindle was becoming a bonfire. The flames were binge drinking.

By the time I woke up that morning my right eye was useless. Light was torture. Despite this, I carried on. I was meeting Natalie in a few days. I had to get to Barcelona. In a post-coke binge haze I packed my items. Its funny how quaintly we pack our suitcases before leaving on a trip. A bit synonymous with life. There is the ideal, before we leave, and the reality when we leave again. The reality is a cluster fuck of belongings, lack of organization and nervous, get me the fuck out of here tension. The time for quaintness had passed. I jammed my belongings into the now too small suite case. Folding my shirts? Matching my socks? Fuck off. I couldn't see through the burning.

As I sat in the taxi to Dublin Airport I tried thinking how this had happened. Ailments must always be accompanied by blame. Yes pathogens and fungal invaders are without thought and intentional malice, but what about the fucker who passed them a long? They will shoulder the blame. They are the cannon fodder. I blamed the cocaine. The poor soul who packaged this third world powder must have had an infection. Perhaps after dabbing my finger into the bag I touched my eye. Yes, that was the only logical conclusion as the taxi rolled to a stop at the airport.

"Sir, we are overbooked." said the attendant. "We are offering passengers who agree to take a flight tomorrow a free night in a hotel and two free meals."

"I'll take it" I replied.

"You will?" a perplexed employee responded.

This was a god send. Had I not been departing today I would have gone to a Doctor. Naturally, you rather see a Doctor in a country which spoke your native tongue. Ireland would be the last English speaking country I would see for a while.

"Okay step over here and we'll shuttle you over to the hotel" replied the employee.

"No, give me the information and I'll find my own way there."

With a raised eyebrow he scribbled down my information and handed me a slip of paper.

From the airport I hopped onto a train. I looked tragic. Have you ever seen someone strung out on public transportation? That poor individual who had completely squandered their life? Who used up the life force and exuberance of their twenties. Who couldn't pick themselves up in their thirties and tumbled further into their forties. The downward spiral. For a brief moment in time. Far across the Atlantic. I was the specimen for you to pity.

Tears rolled down my cringed face. Arching up and down the wrinkles emanating from the crows feet of my squinted eyes. The pain. My god the pain. I looked down upon the public transit floor. Scuffed up and dirty. Thats how the floor looked, thats probably what I looked like too. To the general public I was clearly strung out. My god, he must be doped out. Really questioning his life decisions is he now. I wonder what his mother thinks of him. A sad state of affairs. He should seek help. He's probably been in out of treatment. That's what they were thinking. I wish I could transmit this to them. A trade. Do you ever wish you could just trade away your pain to someone near by? Even just for a moment? Just long enough for a brief reprieve.

"Trèana a ’stad a-nis" was announced over the P.A. system as the train rolled to a stop.

I exited the train following the digital map on my phone. I made my way to the Doctors office, covering my right eye periodically to avoid the judging beams of sunshine. There was no wait. I don't think I'd ever been to a Doctors office without a wait. An elderly gentlemen motioned me in.

"What's got you down today?" asked the Doctor.

"I have an eye infection and its brutal" I replied.

The Doctor grabbed a retinoscope and shined the burning light of a thousand supernovas into my eye.

"Yep, you sure do, but luckily it doesn't look too bad. We'll write you prescription and you should be feeling better by tomorrow."

Exuberance took hold.