Beauty is in the Eye of the Bee Holder




I was trimming oak trees with a hand saw in my front yard, last summer. It was hot sweaty work. I was wearing safety glasses because of all of the woods chips. I was climbing up and down the large oak trees taking out dead branches or branches too close to the house. I climbed down got out of the last tree and was cutting the final tree limb before knocking off for the day. My face was so sweaty that my safety glasses slid down onto my nose leaving a slight gap. My saw kicked up some wood chips which flew into my left eye through the gap temporarily blinding me with lots of pain.

I put down my saw and ran into the house. I flushed my eye out several times at my bathroom sink with tap water with no luck, the wood chips stayed in my eye. I got my first aid kit out and flushed my eye out with some sterile eye wash. Again, I had zero success flushing my eye out. The wood chips began to hurt worse. The pain mixed with my ever growing apprehension over any possible permanent vision loss. I got my wife to drive me to the emergency room on a busy Saturday night. So, I waited with the drunks, arrestees, and do it your self types.

The male nurse was rough. First he lectured me on the dangers of hand tools then he told me how stupid I was to not be wearing my safety glasses securely fastened. Like, I’m going to argue with a man cleaning my eye out. To add injury to insult, he began rubbing my eye with coarse bandages to try and rub the wood chip out. Rubbing a sore eye ball with coarse grit sand paper is not as fun as it sounds. He left the white of my eye bruised and battered with a big red blood streak. I looked like someone punched me in the eye as my eye began to swell up. The nurse advised me to see my eye doctor on Monday.

Monday afternoon I was scheduled to see my eye doctor. He took one look and cleared his throat uncomfortably like stress had just hit him.

He took a deep breath and said, “There’s a bee in your eye.”

I said, “Excuse me?”

He said, “There’s a bee in your eye and we need to get it taken out right away.”

He called an eye specialist and had an instant appointment for me. The excitement in my eye doctor’s voice scared me like I was going to lose my vision or something. I’d never seen a doctor get an appointment with another doctor so quick. I drove to the specialist’s office. The second doctor called me into his office and began looking at my eye with a huge light up magnifying glass device.

The doctor said to another doctor, “Boon, come here and check this out, and bring the camera.”

The second doctor examined my eye as he snapped a couple of photos. The second doctor called for more medical personnel to come see the bee in my eye like I was a sideshow attraction.

Finally, the examining doctor spoke to me. He advised me the bee must have flown into my eye with the wood chips. The doctor sprayed my eye with a numbing solution before removing the bee with some forceps. The doctor placed the bee in a jar with alcohol. The doctor placed the jar in a bigger jar the size of a pickle barrel. In this larger jar were all the items the doctor had removed from patient’s eyes. The jar contained nails, staples, rocks, glass, metal slivers, but no bees until now.