All they say about the eyes being the gateway to ones soul; maybe I know something about that from today's experiences. Just maybe.
I assisted a medical professional in a bilateral enucleation today, which, in fancy jargon, means that we removed someones eye balls for donation. The altruistic donor was a beautiful lady of 70 something, and during the procedure I couldn't help but stroke her white hair and focus on her perfect (although pale) complexion. What a darling. Giving is winning.
The whole act took about a half an hour, but most of that time was spent by the doctor fastidiously organising the layers and layers of disposible sheeting and hygeinic paraphernalia that he brought in a cute little suitcase. A couple of simple but expertly directed snips later and the peepers were safe in two seperate specimen containers, ready to be dissected and shared with someone in need of better goggles.
After the removal it was strange looking into the ladies face, two big caves where her sweet blue eyes used to be housed. I wondered what her ghost would've thought if she was hovering near by. After some cotton padding, plastic caps and tiny invisible stitches, very swiftly the resemblance of normality returned. In fact, she looked happier and more peaceful than she ever did. Her new cotton packed slumber gave her an appearance of bliss. Maybe her eyebrows were a little more raised or something, but she really did look joyous.
Peace. x
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