Have you ever seen someone get injections in their eyeball? I mean for real, not in a movie or a comic book or anything fabricated like that. I mean, have you ever stood a few feet away from two people, one of whom was sticking needles in the other one’s eye? I didn’t think so. I have.
It was last Thursday. I would have told you about it sooner, but I was working on finishing my NaNoWriMo, which I just did. Now we can get gross.
These are my personal movie rules: I won’t see anything icky, scary or sad. (Or anything with an animal in it, but that’s a separate category.) My squeamishness is legend. I don’t even like to watch someone put drops in their eyes. Yet when I took Melva to the retina specialist – she’s fine now, thanks – I stayed in the room while he gave her the injections, three of them.
He made the obvious “Clockwork Orange” reference when he propped open her eyelids. You would think I’d cringe from the reference at least, if not from the reality. I didn’t. I never saw the movie, but I read the book ages ago. I cringed when I read the book. Hell, I cringed when I read the Mad magazine satire of the movie, which tells you how long ago it was.
There, in that room with all the equipment, I didn’t even wince. I take no credit for that.
As is typical for her, Melva was a hero. She was calm and so I was calm. Maybe it was vice versa, that doesn’t matter. We were, and it’s done, and now I can strike “watch someone have needles stuck in their eyeball” off of my non-existent bucket list.
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