Nothing But a Scratch

Last time I checked, I wasn't fluent in Braille, so I need my eyes to read. But sadly, good vision and I have not been too chummy these last fourteen days.

A couple Fridays ago, I woke up, put in my contacts, and went outside to go running with my friend. My right contact was bothering me, so much so that I had to run back inside, take it out, rinse it, and put it back in. It felt much better, and I went on my run without further incident.

Later that day, I was driving home around lunchtime. I could hardly keep my eyes open...not because I was tired but because for some reason they felt dry and seemed extremely sensitive to light.

And from there, things grew steadily worse. I never feared I was losing the ability to see, but if your eyes won't stay open, well, that's just as much a vision impairment as less than 20/20 vision.

On Monday, having been convinced by someone at church that if  left unchecked it could lead to orbital celulitis (which sounds truly frightening), I went to the doctor. He did a quick exam, diagnosed it as a superficial corneal abrasion (i.e., a miniscule scratch) , and said it would heal in a couple of days. I felt a little foolish for going in, but better safe than sorry, right?

And he was right. By Thursday, my eyes were as good as new. And by Friday, I was wearing my contacts again (a new pair). I was scarred just enough by the experience to make me appreciate being able to walk outside without screaming in agony and retreating to the depths of a cool, dark room.

But then on Tuesday, without warning, and after just five days of good vision, all of the same symptoms started reappearing, and by that night, I couldn't even crack my eyelid.

What were the chances, I moaned, of scratching my eye twice in less than two weeks when I've been wearing contacts for ten years without ever a problem? Or was this something worse than a scratch? Would I never be able to wear contacts again? Would I deal with chronic eye pain for the rest of my life?

It turns out the chances are slim to none that you'll scratch your eye again so soon after the first time unless you wear the old pair of contacts again. Which I did. Accidentally, of course. I'm sure you're wondering why I kept the old contacts. I'm wondering that myself actually. I guess I didn't know for sure if the lens itself was defective, so I thought I might be in a desperate situation sometime and need to wear them. Well, now I know I will never be that desperate. I'm donating them to Mike so he can examine them under the microscope (because he's like that), and then they're going into the trash where they should have gone in the first place.

And as for me, my eye is finally close to normal (for the second time)...this blog post is proof of that since there's no way I would have been able to stare at a computer screen for this long two days ago.

In other news, the boys and I are in Colorado for a 10-day stay with my family while Mike finishes his dissertation. (And let me tell you: riding in the car for nine hours without being able to read...well, I'd use words like "torture" and "agony," but that might be getting a little too dramatic. )