Going to the doctor is never fun. Especially the eye doctor. Especially when you know that something is wrong with your eye.
I’ve been having a stye on my right eye since the beginning of this year. It hasn’t bothered me much, and it isn’t that visible, so I thought nothing of it. But weeks went by, and weeks turned to months, and the stye stays. My family and I start getting worried. So after a few weeks of delay, I finally decide to go to the eye doctor.
They’re probably just going to give me medicine and tell me to compress it with warm water.
The word surgery causes my stomach to churn. My hands turn cold. It turns out I have to get a minor surgery to remove the stye.
I try taking a few deep breaths to calm myself.
The doctor assures me that the surgery is quick and somewhat painless. Honestly, it does not feel reassuring.
This is where I am extremely thankful that I didn’t know beforehand that I will be getting surgery. If I did, I’m sure I would have worried about it for days, and I probably would have been way too chicken to go.
My hands shake as I sign papers. My heart is going at a hundred miles an hour, and I suddenly feel a bit nauseous.
A million thoughts are running through my mind. I hurry to text my friends, cancelling plans for the next few days.
My mom reminds me to pray. I honestly want to break down into tears right then, but miraculously I don’t.
Lord, I know that this is happening for a reason. Please help me to not be afraid but know that You will be with me the whole time.
Now all that’s left is to wait for my name to be called.
Here is the least graphic picture taken of my surgery going on:
First they give me a shot on my eyelid to numb my eye area. Then, they begin clearing away the stye.
The shot is painful, but it only lasts about 10 seconds, so I can still handle it.
The rest of the surgery… well, let’s just say I cry about 15 times.
I am so grateful for my mom who holds my hand throughout the whole surgery (and I’m sorry if I squeezed it a bit too hard).
After what seems like hours of torture (although it was probably only 5 minutes), they tape my eye and I’m finally free to go.
Now that is something I hope I never have to do again.
I am thankful for my parents, sisters, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends for showing such care and concern over me during this time.
But most of all, I thank God for giving me strength-I couldn’t have survived without Him.
I realize that sometimes a good scare is needed for us to fully appreciate the things we usually take for granted. So let’s be grateful for the little things. If we still have eyes to see, ears to hear, and a tongue to speak, it is only by His grace.
Until next time.