It was interesting, the way the vision loss came on. I'd notice a little spot of blurriness, usually on the periphery, which would gradually spread across my entire field of vision, fading everything into a uniform and indistinguishable field of gray.
The first time it happened was on a Sunday morning. I was maybe 14 or 15, in church, with my family. It was after communion, and I was kneeling and concentrating.
The object of my very intent concentration was, however, the curved, skirted posterior of the high school senior girl in the pew in front of me, about whom I thinking thoughts that occur to a 14- or 15-year-old boy who has scant control over his racing hormones.
My fantasy was at the point where I had her more or less completely disrobed, but, having had no prior experience as to what to do at that point, this is where most of my fantasies at that age kind of stopped and stalled, the imagined object thereof sometimes tapping her foot expectantly as she waited for me to figure out what on earth to do with a naked girl.
Well, except stare, which I fortunately knew even at that age was plain creepy. But still.
Also, at that point, not really having seen a woman with her clothes off, I had to fill in with my best guess what the naked parts actually looked like; my mind's eye would sometimes solve this conundrum by posing the unclothed girl demurely, birth-of-Venus style, or, as was the case this day, by subtly blurring out selected portions of feminine anatomy.
It was the blurring-out aspect that at first prevented me from noticing that I was experiencing a migraine. As such, when I snapped out of my reverie, perhaps at the point where the congregation took the priest's cue to sit back down, it was with no small amount of panic that I noticed that I couldn't blink the blurriness away. Rubbing my eyes didn't help either, I discovered a minute later.
This was considerably alarming after a few minutes, in which the condition worsened. Risking the potential embarrassment that walking around with the erection engendered by my daydreaming might cause, I hastily excused myself and did some really fast walking--hands firmly pocketed--to the restroom to check my eyes in the mirror. There was nothing wrong that I could discern, but I did notice that my vision was going to gray pretty quickly.
Holy shit, I thought. I am fucked.
... then I apologized to God for swearing in His church, which apology was immediately followed by the crazy thought that He wouldn't mind so much because it didn't occur *IN* His church, per se, but rather in the adjacent lobby restroom, and so it would only be fair that whatever penalty that normally accrued would be reduced because of this, and so forth.
This wasn't effective to stave off the growing panic, especially because only then did the possibility occur to me that I was being punished for my impure thoughts. For the love of God, in CHURCH, of all places, and during a part of the mass where we're supposed to be praying and reflecting on the miracle of transubstantiation, or whatever.
Fuck fuck fuck, I thought again, and then again mentally apologized to the Lord for swearing.
I made my way back to where my family was sitting. To this day I don't know if it was a trick of my fading vision or not, but I could swear that the skirted beauty, who I had crushed on for maybe a half-dozen years but never acknowledged my existence, turned and made eye contact, and offered a little smile. Lousy timing. Foul temptress! I thought furiously at her.
I whispered hastily to my mom that I felt sick and needed to wait in the car (she told me later that when I looked at her, I wasn't focusing on her). I grabbed the keys and navigated myself to the passenger seat, relying equally on memory as well as visibility, and thought about how Hell would feel, and whether I'd be blind in the afterlife or just until I got there, because blind AND in Hell? Come on.
She came out to check on me a few minutes later, and I explained the best I could about my vision, leaving out my firm conviction at that point that I was undergoing Saul's conversion on the road to Damascus, then passed out. I was fine a few hours later. The next day, the doc confirmed her initial suspicion that it was a migraine, and chuckled "Musta given you a scare!"
Yeah, dude. You don't even know.