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My Hurt Eye

Right now, my eye is swollen, throbbing, and making its discomfort known in ways I didn’t think were possible. After a sleepless night, I found myself at the doctor’s office, walking out with medication and a list of instructions to help my eye heal. This wasn’t entirely surprising—being “gracefully challenged” means accidents are a frequent companion in my life. But this injury has left me marveling at just how much we rely on something as small as an eye.


When one eye isn’t functioning the way it should, everything feels off. Blurry vision, light sensitivity, and the constant urge to rub my eye have me appreciating my sense of sight more than ever. I wear glasses, so I’m no stranger to squinting at a menu or holding my phone at arm’s length when I can’t find them. But this is different—it’s a reminder of how much I take for granted when my eyes work seamlessly.


As I sit here writing, resisting the urge to rub my eye, I find myself thinking about an old Verizon commercial: “Can you hear me now?” It reminds me of the day Cody got his hearing aid. That day, he spent hours marveling at sounds he hadn’t fully heard before: the hum of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock, and the volume of the TV. His wonder was infectious. Of course, we couldn’t resist the temptation to whisper “Can you hear me now?” from different rooms in the house, which, unsurprisingly, drove him a little nuts.


This memory has a special place in my heart, not just because it was a milestone for Cody, but because it inspire a side storyline in the Annie the Porcupine series. When I asked Cody if I could make him into a porcupine character, he agreed on one condition: Cody the Porcupine had to be a hearing-impaired martial artist. Cody’s character was created to celebrate a different type of diversity—how someone with a disability might navigate challenges in unexpected ways, like seeing a classroom party as more intimidating than exciting.


Cody the Porcupine reminds us to consider different perspectives and to think about how we can ensure everyone feels valued and included, whether in the classroom or the wider world. He’s a reflection of r the importance of embracing what makes each of us unique.


Reflecting on my eye injury, Cody’s journey reinforces the importance of gratitude. Sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell—they’re all gateways to experiencing the beauty of the world. When one sense falters, it’s a stark reminder of how remarkable our bodies are when everything is working as it should.


Today, even with blurry vision and a touch of frustration, I’m choosing gratitude. Gratitude for the way my eyes let me see the colors of autumn leaves or the faces of people I love. Gratitude for hearing laughter and music. Gratitude for every little way my senses help me connect with the world.


Sometimes, it takes a little discomfort to remind us of just how much we have to be thankful for—and how important it is to see the world from someone else’s perspective, whether through Cody’s ears or my own blurry eye.


I can’t wait for the day I can confidently say, “I can see again!” or at least “I can see better!” But until then, I’m embracing this reminder to cherish the little things—because they’re not so little after all. Here’s to celebrating our senses and the ways they help us experience this incredible world!


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