Vitreum corpus bursting

Modifié le : 2019/07/17

The eye is a bubble. It is precious, gives us a taste for color, presents us with both the beauty and horror of the world. It guides our hands, instructs our thoughts and, above all, plunges its tentacles into the abyss of love. What could be more precious than the other’s gaze, this tangle of questions exchanged by the bats that we are?

The visually impaired does well, however, as we know. Its other senses take over, knowledge of the world is not limited to the boundaries of the light spectrum. Anyway, I’d be sad if I lost my sight. This is a truism, but it is still a serious truth and it is all the truer since, for some time now, the left eye has been showing signs of aging. A “hair” appeared one morning. At first, I thought it was a speck of dust and that, with a little water, it would disappear. But nothing worked. The hair followed my gaze, nothing floated.

The vitreum corpus shattered, the ophthalmologist diagnosed. For her, nothing serious. She explained to me that the vitreous, this dense liquid inside the eye, tends to liquefy as it ages, with the effect of these more “liquid” stains. However, these may be early signs of retinal detachment. She, therefore, had me undergo several tests, especially since the pressure in this eye was particularly high. I put my head in several devices, the pupils were dilated during two appointments. At times I had the impression that I was in front of HAL’s inquisitive eye or bombarded by cosmic rays. The result was beautiful photos, each more esoteric than the next.

In short, my doctor explained, I have a big optic nerve, which is a chance since it will take a lot of time before it disappears. The cornea is also very thick, thick enough to withstand this abnormal pressure. As for the fundus of the eye, it undergoes early macular degeneration that must be monitored. For that apparent hair in the upper left corner of my vision, it would be there to stay… that it is not very serious and that I would eventually no longer detect its presence.

I don’t think so. It already colors, it seems, what I perceive. It adds up to the little sadness already built in me every time I think about the beauty of life. It is a leaf that falls, silently, to the surface of the water and announces autumn, winter, and darkness. Nothing to worry about. This is normal for me since a large foggy sky most often covers my thoughts. It is not a question of sadness, rather the effect of the wind, an aria of Brel that can be sung or torn.

Everything’s fine, so it’s just annoying. Hoping to keep a straightforward look until my body decides it has had enough.