Today's Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

Inner Windows

By Bobbie Probstein

One morning just after dawn, I sat quietly, trying to meditate. It's often hard

to stop the mind chatter and become peaceful, and so it was in the gray silence

of the room that I decided to use some imagery. I often visualize my " sanctuary "

- an imaginary room with a small stage in front - where I can summon in my mind

any part of my body I have questions about. Most often, I call on my immune

system to fight a cold I've been exposed to, and I imagine a funny little

creature dressed in silver, adorned with stars, and holding a laser gun to zap

any germs. I think, You have my permission to keep my body totally healthy! I

don't care if it sounds weird; I rarely get colds anymore.

This morning something else came first. Yesterday I had noticed a very small,

dark gray spot in the bottom of my field of vision that didn't move when my eyes

moved, as " floaters " do . . . those spots that nearsighted people like me often

get. Floaters are generally harmless.

There was no pain at all, and the small spot seemed odd but insignificant. I had

gone to bed without giving it much thought, but when I awoke, I'd noticed it

again. I decided to go to my sanctuary and ask my eye what was going on.

I was not prepared for the answer I sensed. This is very serious. Get to a

doctor immediately. That was it. I don't " hear " voices. I just get information -

an awareness - in some way I can't define. It doesn't feel spooky to me at all,

and I trust this intuitive knowledge at a level deeper than mind.

I was quite shaken and called the eye doctor when his office opened. " Come in

tomorrow, " the secretary said, " but be prepared for a long wait. The doctor has

to see three times as many patients as usual because most of the doctors here at

the clinic are leaving the day after tomorrow to attend the big annual

conference. "

The next morning, as I prepared to go to a previously scheduled early morning

meeting before my 11 a.m. doctor appointment, I found myself packing an

overnight bag. That seemed ominous; I couldn't imagine why I would need it, but

threw it in the car anyway.

After the meeting, I drove seventy miles to the eye clinic to wait for hours in

Dr. 's reception room, relieved that the gray spot had not moved, enlarged

or darkened.

When the ophthalmologist dilated my eye and looked into it, he asked the most

surprising question. " How did you know to come here with such a tiny spot? "

I told him the story of the inner dialogue with my eye, and of the peaceful

times when I can ask such questions and receive answers. He seemed unnerved, and

made no response; I understood it didn't fit the medical model he'd been taught.

" Bobbie, it's a miracle you're here, " he said. " You have a hole in your retina,

and a detached retina as well. If you had let this go you could well have been

blind in a very short time - a couple of days. I'm going to call a retinal

specialist in right now, and I'm sure he'll have you in surgery today as soon as

he can schedule it. I don't really understand how you knew to get in here so

quickly, but I'm grateful you did so we can fix the problem. "

Waiting more hours to have the surgery, I alternated between fear of going blind

and thankfulness I had listened to my inner wisdom and made it in to a

world-renowned eye clinic in time to have treatment.

The surgery was mercifully brief. My eye socket was injected with a local

anesthetic, and I was conscious, but wishing I weren't.

The surgeon said, " I know you weren't expecting to have this done, but you'll

need to stay in a local hotel overnight so I can see you first thing in the

morning. My plane leaves at ten, and I want to make sure you're doing well

before I go. "

I did very well indeed, and still thank my eye for warning me of the problem

when it was solvable. I continue to imagine my sanctuary, and to appreciate my

body for bringing me this far in life. Most of all, I'm filled with gratitude

for the inner voice of wisdom I've come to trust so deeply.