Momentary happiness and a peace of mind.
Such a rare feeling in the last years of my life I find it worth mentioning, saying aloud, writing down, or otherwise prolonging my being aware of it when I experience it.
Actually, one of the reasons for my keeping this virtual diary was to help myself survive the hard times by not forgetting about the happy ones. I know that there are people in much worse situation than I am, able to cope with their difficulties without even writing a diary. On the other hand, there are people who have much more objective reasons for being happy than I have, and still they are writing injured, accusatory and desperate journals, eventually complaining to colleagues at work about people who love them not being dedicated enough and/or some of their should-be-perfect holiday experiences not being quite perfect.
I don’t want to belong to the latter kind and get drowned in a pathetic self-pity. I am trying really hard to "always look on the bright side of life“.
But even "hitchhikereddwarforderofthestickinuyashaluckyjimontypythonish" sense of humour is not almighty and “
I am in fact surprised that my friends and relatives (those who still have the infinite patience to believe that they will one day have the chance to see me safe and sound) have not yet changed my nickname to “Catastrophe” or “Disaster-magnet”, as whenever I have the cheek to claim that I feel fine, something terrible or painful (one way or another very improbable) follows.
In December of the last year I have passed quite difficult exams at the university, and was sincerely looking forward to what joyful events the next “stressless” year would bring.
Well, I have mentioned some of the things that have been happening to me since January here before, let’s just say that the rest of them were mainly far from pleasant. But I fought my battle and in June I again passed some of my exams successfully.
Then I started hoping for things getting better during summer – my favourite season.
Summer began by my destroying the front part of our car and continued by heavy rains (just slightly spoiling otherwise nice trips with nice people), my being more or less ill (which ended in cancellation of some of the other trips and meetings planned), and my being stressed by the unfinished school essays.
And soon after finishing my previous half-summer blog entry about things getting better and me being in a good mood, I had a phone call from my roommate and told her proudly that I am finally feeling healthy, looking forward to meeting her, going to the capital city (where we both study) to experience something nice with people I really missed…
What happened was that I really left for the capital city. That meant one crucial night of my not being online. And during that crucial night a lot of unpleasant things with far reaching consequences happened.
First of all, me and my roommate have lost the chance of being roommates during the next year, because of our missing the unbelievably short period when it was possible to book our former room and dormitory house online and because of our (mine?) not being able to fight back the unbelievable arrogance from some of the other students trying to get the rooms as well (I might dedicate an extra post to this later, but not yet, dum spiro, spero).
The second event of that night was even less positive. I woke up at maybe four o’clock in the morning with a burning pain in my right eye. My first thought was that I had perhaps an eyelash fallen into it and that a bit of blinking or a handful of cold water would surely help. But after spending almost an hour in the bathroom, trying to get rid of the pain by the combination of water, an almost sterile handkerchief and rolling my eyelid up over a pen (none of the red-cross courses methods seemed to be working) I was not so sure anymore. Touching the eyelid hurt like hell and streams of tears continued to come out of both my eyes and I was unable to stop them for another half an hour. So at approximately half past five my poor host got up and looked up the nearest ocularist’s office for me and three hours later even kindly led me there as I was literally blinded by tears (and the bright sunlight I had been soo longing for in July).
After all my bad luck was not complete, as the doctor was very kind and took me in preference so I did not suffer long, at least not in the waiting room. But then, the news she gave me was not good indeed. She told me that the thing in my eye was no eyelash but rather a solid object, perhaps a particle of dust or a sand grain and that my sclerocornea was seriously damaged. The doctor kept asking me whether I wasn’t riding a bicycle or driving a car with windows wide open, and she didn’t seem to believe my assuring her that I didn’t have a car anymore and that I was just sleeping in a normal bed, not on the beach. Anyway, the solution she suggested was to take this damned object out of my eye (which hurt like hell again), give me some painkillers (which did not help much), antibiotics (which should help in a two weeks time), special eyedrops and a special soft lens (which was expensive and demanding a special treatment, i.e. visiting the doctor the next day as well).
I spent the afternoon crying. Half because the sunlight and pain was killing me (for the first time in my claustrophobic life I really WANTED to go to some cold, dark and wet cave and stay there for as long as possible), half because my plans – to go canoeing with Carrot, to go to Romeo’s wedding, to go to France with Katie seemed to be sentenced to a nasty death just because of something so tiny as a sand grain. I would have tried to look on the bright side of life at least with my left eye, but unfortunately, my being half blind did not lend me half the Milton’s or Homer’s writing skills, so there seemed to be no way of comforting me just then.
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