I had a moment the other day. You know those moments. When you see a glimpse of something unexpected that makes you look at life a little differently.
In a flurry of spring cleaning, I was relegating a space heater to a high, out-of-the-way shelf in a claustrophobic shed. I was excited and moving fast because this winter has been long. Really long. Even hardy Ontarians are claiming they have been at their collective wits’ end and I couldn’t get this damn heating machine out of sight fast enough. So I hoisted the tall space heater, getting enough ooomph in my lift to ensure Old Man Winter witnessed how serious I was, aaaaand up we go! Aaaaand SMASH>*FLASHHxxzkkkPOP!!tinkletinktinktinkle.…I had driven the heater directly into the energy-efficient lightbulb above my head, sending a shower of tiny, energy-efficient shards of whatever those energy-efficient engineers make their energy-efficient lightbulbs out of. Probably tiger claws and Dead Sea salt shavings.
As the starburst of pieces rained upon me, several thoughts crossed my mind in rapid fire succession:
1) Don’t breathe. You’ll inhale a filament that will lodge itself in your lung, lay dormant for 20 years and eventually rip its way through the soft tissue, leaving you breathless, forced to live in a plastic tent like in that really intense part near the end of E.T. when Eliott and E.T. are in quarantine.
2) I’m going to burn down the building. Great. What a way to start spring.
3) Something just went in my eye. No, really. A shard of energy-efficient lightbulb just went in my eye and, first, I’m going to have to miss my weekly Friday show at the Cameron House in Toronto (Come see us sometime! We start at 8pm!) and, second, I am going to lose sight in my left eye. [cue panic]
Get it out.
Wait. Don’t touch it. You’ll scratch your cornea or, worse yet, puncture it and send ocular fluid everywhere.
Don’t blink. Wait. Blink. That’ll help wash it out. Yeah. {blink} Hmmm, yeah, there’s definitely something in there.
Flush it with water! But what if the water somehow washes this alien fragment behind my eyelid and it ends up slicing my optic nerve?! AAAHHHHH!!!
Ok, calm down, Patrick. Let’s look in a mirror.
Okaaaay, I don’t see any tiger claw shards of death in my eye socket. That’s good. There isn’t any blood. That’s good too! There is definitely something in my eye other than my eye and I don’t like that very much but it certainly could be worse.
I recently learned that when it comes to donating organs, a healthy liver donor can have up to 70% of their liver removed to give to someone in need and not only will the donated organ figure out how to live in a different human but the 30% of remaining liver in the donor will make a plan and GROW BACK to its original size. I bring this up because the human body is an amazing organism that we all happen to inhabit. Whatever ended up in my eye, however big, however sharp, however tiny, and however blown up in my mind, my body knew how to get rid of it. Within 15 minutes and a bit of a cold water flush, I was fine.
Ultimately, the incident made me think about how quickly things can change. Of course we all know that life is short and to make the most of it. But are we really prepared for the aftershocks of moments that will change our lives forever? How would I have reacted to losing sight in one eye? I’m sure I would’ve figured it out but man, that would be a blow. More importantly, are we prepared for the good things that will happen to us? Life is going to throw us a lot of lightbulbs and a lot of tigers, it’s how we learn to live with them that matters most.