cyclops

this is the story of how I learned not to be vain, or at least not to care so much about my appearance. it starts way back before I was born, so bear with me.

I was born with only one functioning eye. nobody knew this until about I was 3 months old, when my mom noticed it didnt look quite right. even now, I dont think anyone knows exactly why it's this way. I remember hearing something vauge about it being underdeveloped, and my brain shutting it down, and there's a cataract to boot. and it's over-sensitive to light, so it's always squinting. weird, I know. and to top it all off, it's "lazy," meaning it (blindly) looks down and to the northeast. not that *I* notice this, since when I look in the mirror, my functioning eye is the one looking back at me.

anyway, when I was just a tyke, they took me to the specialist in NYC, and left praising the skies that I "only" had a blind eye. it's amazing what perspective you gain when most of the other patients in the waiting room have brain damage of some sort. so I grew up smashing the right side of my body into all manner of walls and corners. in fact I still run into a door frame now and then. and dont ask me to play baseball or catch a fly or go to a 3D movie.

I survived growing up one-eyed without too many scars, until I got to highschool. my parents had always told me that if I wanted to get the lazy eye corrected, that they would do what they could. but I never realized how I looked to everyone else, and for most of my years, I didnt care. obliviousness is sometimes the best policy.

but then I got a job at a rotisserie chicken place. and one fine day, a customer came in, and he (I think he was a he) had a lazy eye too. and I thought he looked kinda funny. I think it took the better part of the day for me to realize that *I* looked just like that guy! do people think I look funny too? ugh, the horrors of adolescence.

so I decided to take my parents up on their offer (mistake #1). so we went to the eye doctor, and he said he'd fix me up right. he even said he saw a slight abnormality in my good eye, and he'd fix that one too (mistake #2). basically what he did was pop my eyes out, snip off the muscles that point them in the right direction, and re-attatch them so they'd look forward correctly. remember that this was only to correct the laziness of my eye, and not to restore the sight. even if that was possible, I know I wouldnt want it.

the procedure went well and I came home with bloody eyes and a huge headache and an intense desire for darkness. a family friend brought me a get-well present, which involved lots of skittles, which I immediately downed (mistake #3). the problem is that I dont react well to anaesthesia. I basically throw up for a day or so afterward. so up came the skittles. and (this is a little gross) all the heaving caused tremendous pressure on my wounded eyeballs, so there was blood flowing from my throbbing eyes as I threw up. over and over. I think this is about the time I started to realize I made a mistake.

besides this initial fun, the recovery went pretty well. the lazy eye was corrected! my vanity was satisfied. but time passed, and old righty was determined to be lazy, and alas, 3 months later, he was back to where he started. this pretty much solidified the feeling that this was a mistake. thankfully (somehow) insurance covered the cost, so at least I didnt put my folks in the poor house.

so I started to embrace my one-eyed-ness. I signed all my drawings and doodles as "cyclops." I named my little business "cylcops web development" -- an eye for design. I try to disarm people's initial uncomfortableness with a little joke if I can. I humor little kids, who get confused as to which eye to address, by covering righty with my hand. and I do my best to not care so much about my outward appearance, because this is how God made me, and this is how I am. and apparently I was at least not ugly enough to scare away my wife, who loves me just as I am, and laughs with me at all my weirdnesses.

lessons that came at a bloody price.