Divine Calm: In a blink of an eye

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In a blink of an eye

"Everything I do, Whoooaaa, I do it for..." *SMACK*

Bryan Adams' music wasn't going to get me out of bed this morning. I had already hit the snooze button four times, but I was so tired from staying up too late reading Where the Red Fern Grows for my seventh grade reading class. It was getting late and if I didn't get out of my cozy pink-striped covers soon, my mom would come in and start lecturing me about waking up on time. Groan.

After getting up, I turned on my curling iron so it would be the perfect temperature to curl my bangs. I silently groaned again in anticipation for another fight with my mom over the height of my bangs. Despite my desperate attempts in explaining to my mom how tall bangs determined your status in middle school society, she frequently told me to go back to my bedroom and lower my gravity-defying hair sprayed masterpiece. Tears would not sway her, and the resulting compromise made me look like a "wannabe" cool 13-year old instead of a member of the "in crowd".

I took my shower and noted my puffy eyes. I had been crying the night before over the ending of my book. Hopefully, the swelling would go away soon, but on second thought, maybe the puffiness made my eyes look like those of Elaine Irwin. I did my best model pose in front of the mirror. Hmmm. Not bad.

Fifteen minutes later, I sat on my purple stripe velvet chair that had turned gray from hairspray build-up and began blow-drying my hair. As I dried my hair, I continued to pose and envision myself as a model who is able to get any boy she wanted. Next, I quickly touched the curling iron to check that it was hot enough and began curling my bangs. I don't know if I was too into Paula Abdul's song, "Rush rush," playing on the radio or if my puffy eyes were a factor, but suddenly I lost my grip on my curling iron and after dropping it, I began screaming and racing around the house.

My eye was stinging so badly that I curled up in the fetal position on the kitchen floor. By this time, my mom frantically rushed to see what was wrong with me.

"My eye, oh my God, Mom, it hurrrrts," I screamed.

My mom tried to get me to open up my eye, but I wouldn't let her touch me. While my mom hurriedly dressed in order to get me to a doctor, I continued to lay on the floor writhing in pain and my only thought was that I would have to miss school (not that I could lose my eyeball). I had been trying so hard to not miss any days in order to get the perfect attendance award. While shielding my eyes from the kitchen's light, I was heartbroken that I wouldn't get the chance to walk up on the stage and receive the award this year.

Twenty minutes later, a doctor pried open my eyelid and examined it with a special light.

"Mom, you should come see this," my doctor urged. My mom gasped at what she saw.

"What? What does it look like? Come on, tell me," as I began to really freak out.

"Well, you have a gray spot on your eye near the brown iris that is the size of a split pea."

"Oh my God", I thought while feeling nauseous.

"Don't worry. Eyes are one of the fastest healing organs in your body, and since there appears to be no damage to your sight, your eye should heal in a couple of days," the doctor replied.

For the rest of the day and the subsequent day, I laid on the couch and watched T.V. with my uninjured eye while keeping ointment and a cold compress on my burned eye. By the time the evening news came on the second day, I felt something move in my burned eye. When I rubbed my eye, a small gray patch the size of a split pea came out of my eye.

Relieved, I went back to the couch and turned the T.V. channel from the news to an old rerun of The Brady Bunch. Coincidentally, the episode when Peter gets a black eye while defending his little sister was playing.