My muse had been avoiding me since I learned of the first topic in our school paper’s “weekly blog project”. Not that I need a muse of any sort for the first topic—all I need to do is rummage in the drawers of the “Memorable Life Experiences So Far” cabinet in my head and look under the “scary ones” section. Unfortunately, there isn’t a section of that kind.
So what do I talk about? I have my own share of so-called ‘ghost stories’. Doppelgangers, perfume or candle scent defusing in the air, white figures darting along my peripheral vision…or that time when I’m home alone and typing away at my laptop and then I heard rustling pages behind me, like someone is reading…or that time when I heard my alarm clock going off when it hasn’t any battery. I do have them, but I’m not extremely creeped out by them—I just always shrug and dismiss them either as products of my hyperactive imagination.
Anyway, who said a “creepy” moment always has to deal with paranormal abnormalities (ahaha)? It can be associated with..some other disabilities too.
I’m not a very healthy person, especially back in high school. For a hobbit-sized creature like me, three illnesses is a tad too many—and the bottles of capsules and tablets and the inhalers and nebulizer are just…well, too much. Back during those times, I feel like a very fragile thing that may break into million pieces at the slightest pressure. I’m in need of some kind of a bubblewrap, and I find it in whispered prayers and poetry.
But what the doctor told my mother one afternoon we went for a checkup really scared the hell out of me. He said—my mom said he said—that I may go blind because of meds overdose or something along that line. I didn’t zero in so much about the cause--meds, or previous illness or somehting--because the only thing that I can focus on is what is going to happen to me:
I’ll go blind.
No words in the dictionary can rightly explain how terrified I was back then, and I cried for some time. All that I ever think about is: I'll go blind and I won’t be able to enjoy reading books ever again. Never will I be able to draw or paint again. Never will I be normally typing away at my laptop making stories and poems. Never will I see the stars and the moon, my favorite objects in the sky. Never will I see the whole earth itself--or what's left of it. It’s still beautiful for me anyway, and my failing eyesight will not be able to witness it until I breathed my last. It’s like my whole world is revolving around the things I see…and taking away my sight is like taking the world from me. It’s so depressing I almost lost hope—I didn’t sleep for nights for the fear of waking up and not seeing sunshine anymore.
And then suddenly, the real sunshine fell on face: have I forgotten about my bubblewrap? The prayers? How could I.
So I prayed to God, and I wore glasses and visited other ophthalmologists and doctors. The whole thing was a painfully expensive process, but my parents will do anything for me. So I did what they told me: stop being a wuss and believe I can pass this.
And pass this I did. I can still see while I’m typing this.
This may not be the best ‘creepy’ story out there, especially that it’s nothing paranormal. I cannot say it’s not haunting me anymore, because there are mornings when I freak out because my eyesight dims for a while, then go back to normal.