January 22nd, 2022
A sixty-watt bulb blinks, comes back on and goes off forever. It has been one year since my right eye went dark.
A strange event to hold a remembrance for, yes. However, I think it is fitting. My life has changed a lot since that day.
This is by no means a chronicle or an exhaustive account of what happened. The stories are too many and they have not finished unfolding.
Asymptote
I generally do not write about myself this way. Not in my poems or anything except my infrequent personal letters. I prefer observing and pretending I don’t exist. Sometimes it feels like I am only eyes and thoughts and can be randomly surprised by the other parts of my body except…
This might be connected to my complicated relationship with memory. It’s great if you have a good memory but some memories are just awful or uncomfortable, especially when you are powerless and things keep happening to you. For me, there’s a lot of defanging, making memory lose its sting which includes subconscious attempts at forgetting in parts or whole scale. It sucks and is not very effective, so watching others was the best way to avoid situations that created unpleasant memories for me.
So, I have been thinking about what to do. Forget? And how? How will I go about the task of memory reconstruction for an event this big? Bearing witness is hard work but now it is the right thing to do.
“Your retina has detached from the back of your eye; you need emergency surgery to fix it.”
“How soon doctor?”
“I can’t say. The longer you leave it, the worse it gets. Until you can’t see again. Then the next eye follows.”
…
“There are only three hospitals that can treat you. Where do you want me to send you?”
“Doctor, how much does it cost?”
…
The temperature dropped; a dummy eye stared at me from the table.
Tangent:.
Subsisting on the generosity of people is a new experience. Like all new experiences, it is surprising and also a rollercoaster of anxiety. More than 11 months after my first procedure; I am still surprised by how it took place, the love I was shown by friends and strangers. It was shocking to discover I was not alone when I was almost sure I didn’t belong anywhere. I will forever be grateful for these people.
On the flip side, there are thoughts that still persist.
“What if the love runs out?”
(And if you’ve been loved, you know that love’s second favourite thing to do is disappoint).
What will happen to me when people get tired of being kind? When it becomes too much for them?
It began to happen in small instances. Messages went unanswered, conversations became perfunctory. Great care was taken not to listen after “How are you?”
There is nothing I could do about it. They are exhausted and I’m not an obligation, in fact I have become a liability.
“You were referred here?”
“Yes”
“The scans are showing bad results. For both eyes. You need to be operated on as soon as possible.”
“How soon? Next month?”
“Our vitreoretinal specialist won’t be around for two weeks. By then it will be too late. I will refer you to another hospital. I think it is the only place you can be treated.”
“How much does it cost there?”
…
The light was a brilliant white; another dummy eye was avoiding my gaze.
Pain is the least symbolic thing there is
I have heard a handful of comments about how strong I am. I would like to debunk the rumours. Even though these comments were made in good faith, I don’t feel comforted by them. I did not ask to test my strength. Nobody’s strength should be tested like this. This is just a lot of pain and pain is not inspiring.
I know many people survive, but I also think people glorify resilience a little too much, forgetting that the fragile ones simply die as the world walks on over their bones. There are some things we shouldn’t be boasting about.
– A. Emezi
“Hello Moses. How are you? I heard what happened, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. We will do everything to help you. You will not be blind.”
“Hello Emeka, guy what happened? I have been crying since I heard the news. How is the donation going? You will see. I will help you push it. Nothing will happen to you. I’m praying for you man. Love you.”
“My guy, I’m so sorry. Don’t worry about everything, God is in control.”
“Hey baby boy, what books do you want to read after your surgery? I will read them to you and I have interesting recommendations too, you will love them”
Interestingly, there are times where people feel overwhelmed by my situation. A few withdraw, some pretend like nothing is going on (which is fine by me, I like that); some get upset and cry. Sometimes it is funny but it’s not good to laugh about it. Often times I empathize, I will say “Don’t worry, the worst is behind” And other platitudes fetched directly from our common pool of misfortune. There were even times when people were hostile to me, even though this happened rarely and it was very confusing and disheartening on the days I needed extra kindness. Ordinarily, I need a lot of love to get through a day.
It is very easy to be unkind, you just look away one time and do it again. And again, until the necktie of guilt loosens, until it becomes second nature.
And yeah, I totally get it. I dislike myself when I’m like this. I too would not want to be around me if I had a choice. I hate my helplessness more than anything. I hate that I have to make people uncomfortable because of it so much that I just go ahead to stay by myself until it’s impossible to.
So, whenever I feel unwelcome, I tell myself:
“There is no love for you here anymore. Don’t come back.”
I say thank you and stagger around until I reach the next safe place. All the while wondering, what happens when the last safe place is safe no more?
Not now though, there is still love at home.
Aside
Still had some going out of their way to emotionally and mentally harm me and bring me hell. To them I say FUCK YOU, I didn’t need that shit. Not at this time and never will.
PS: Just like the Ganzer egg, I need lots and lots of love. Amen.
