by Jean Marie Carey | 20 Sep 2012 | Art History
Since the actual original bike accident on 1 May 2011, I have been under full anesthesia for more than 25 hours. That is a lot.
I had extreme misgivings about this last surgery, now 10 days ago. I have not been in a very good mood, and there is a lot of stuff that would be better to be doing. The ophthalmologic surgeon insisted that this was, like, the last chance to save the left eye, that it’s too busted up and nothing else has worked in terms of less drastic repairs. So even though, once I considered the alternative — of just having a fake eye that was an exciting color like violet or orange and different from the remaining eye and that eyes from the future like in Mona Lisa Overdrive will probably be invented soon — in my subdued state I agreed to this sort of new surgery where they graft some part of your good eye into your bad eye.
Unfortunately, until the moment the anesthesiologist told me what was going to happen I failed to realize that this would entail both eyes being totally patched for some number of days, and I was not very happy (as in extremely surprised and unhappy)* when I did realize it. But maybe I had been meaning to listen to the audio book of The Pale King anyway.
The trauma of surgery for me is normally the anesthesia…I am really kind of used to not being able wear my glasses, or see perfectly. This time I was out from about 10:30 a.m. until about 3:30 p.m. — quite a spell. In the recovery area I had some very vivid dreams and memories during which the nurse kept interrupting me from telling me to breathe…. I remembered so clearly a particularly sharp cold day in the hautes fagnes seeing a herd of deer emerge from the dense fog. A few years I looked up into the eyes of an acquaintance and discovered that instead of the blue I has always assumed they were these eyes were actually a sparkling golden hazel with flecks of green and black, like a lynx or a cheetah. I was so amazed I lost track of what the person was saying and just stared at them. This moment seemed to go on and on although it took only a second. Everything I imagined or remembered had to do vividly with animals or seeing or both so even in being partially aware that this was partially a synthetic effect of synapses snapping to Versed and Dilaudid this was an exceedingly intriguing state, and alluring.
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by Jean Marie Carey | 11 May 2012 | Art History
I was still so unhappy about what happened to my favorite crazy character on The Borgias, Prince Alfonso of Naples that when I saw the words “pentagonal wedge” in connection with my latest eye surgery I must admit I felt a pang of … well, solidarity.
I can tell this is going to be the best post-surgical post-bike accident black eye to date, so will be sure to post some additional photos to keep informed interested bystanders too shy to ask what the heck happened. The people at the Eye Institute, who are totally kind and efficient, were also happy to alert me that owing to the awesome amount of nerve damage and scar tissue, the stitches would have to on the outside instead of inside the lid…what can you say, really? I am also under admonishment not to remove the medieval, or I guess Quattrocento-esque Frost sutures myself, like I would get bored of them and pick up an Xacto knife or something…
by Jean Marie Carey | 6 May 2011 | Art History
People have been asking about the photo-documentation of the spectacular black eye and other bruises incurred in Bike Fall 2, so here are some images. One of the main purposes of this blog over the years has been to keep track of the various injuries of dogs and others, and I am cheerful to take my place alongside Marcie, Queequeg, and Astra (the Secretariat of accident-prone-ness). As bike accidents go, it was pretty bad, in that it happened so fast I couldn’t jump clear of the handlebars (or the pavement) and pretty good (I was wearing my helmet and didn’t get further run over by a car).
The most upsetting thing was when I went to inspect and clean up the bike. The sprockets, frame, wraps, seat, post, and tires are covered in sprays and drips of blood. I can’t believe I rode home. It was a good method research experience for being riding along one second and in exigent circumstances the next…
As bizarre sociological experiments go, the response to the black eye has been interesting. The power of denial is great, so a surprisingly large number of people — even those who see me pretty regularly and over a long period of time — just ignore the situation and act as if it is normal for an acquaintance to suddenly sport the rings of Saturn. A slight majority — probably 60 percent — evince some sort of reaction. People who have a more intense level of connection have more agitated responses. I guess this is what you would expect. One person who particularly loathes and despises me was quite effusive {“That looks like it must hurt a lot…you must be in a lot of pain!“}. Close friends and family have responded with an onslaught of soup, which is fantastic.
