Something is Irritated, Alrighty

I've not had a good week, and I don't mind saying as much.

Last week at a football game, the girl who works in the eye dr.'s office turned around and asked me how I liked my contact lenses. (She has a son who plays on my youngest son's team, so it wasn't like she was just randomly at the game. Because that would be a little odd. Anyway, what compelled me to say as much probably sums up my state of mind about right now.)

I proclaimed that I didn't like them. I've had nothing but trouble with them since May. The two-week disposable with a name that rhymes with Acuvue 2 didn't come close to lasting two weeks. They seemed to move about my eyeball a good bit. They weren't comfortable, and I'd find myself having to take a few days rest here and there from contacts.

You see, Bausch & Lomb discontinued the contacts I had been wearing. Those that I loved. Those I could wear up to 30 days and not go blind. They fit perfectly. Didn't tear. They had a nice visi-tint so those of use who are blind as bats could see them to insert them.

"Oh, you should come in," she told me. "I'll pull your chart and let the dr. know."

I like her.

So, the next day I called her and made an appointment to go on Wednesday.

During a follow-up appointment, I'd told the eye dr. I wasn't too thrilled with my new lenses. I explained they weren't all that comfortable, and oftentimes, I'd find myself with the strong need to get the son of a guns out of my eye like ten minutes ago. He didn't seem overly concerned. I all but begged to get a Bausch & Lomb lens as a replacement.

I brought in the pair that lasted ten days before I couldn't bear them any longer, which had no appearance of an abundance of build-up or debris on them. He poked around my eyes some, and had me take the lenses out.

As I've mentioned, I suffer from vasovagal syncope. You can read my rantings about it here. What happens is if someone touches my eyeball, I drop like a fly. There's a post-it note on my file that says, "Don't touch her eyeball. She will pass out."

It sort of makes me pull one of these numbers, except without the benefit of cuteness or alcohol.











He tells me he's going to look at the inside of my eyelids, which I just about took the same opportunity to do. He sort of rolled my eyelid up in a wooden swab like an old-fashioned blind. I sort of squealed, "Don't forget my passing out thing!"

He asked if I were okay, and I had to say not for much longer. My ears started ringing. I started getting dizzy. Ugh. Thankfully, he didn't feel the desire to check out both eyelids.

I left with a prescription for steriod eyedrops. My corneas are irritated. After I was grilled about taking proper care of my contacts, and professing that I learned the hard way years ago that one shouldn't go on contact wearing marathons and should actually follow the cleaning directions, he thought perhaps the poorly fitting contacts have caused my corneas to revolt.

I knew something wasn't right. I knew the contacts didn't feel like those I've worn for the last 20 plus years.

So, here's another fun part of this whole experience. I'm supposed to go as many days as possible without wearing contacts (he gave me another pair of Acuvue, these are Oasis, though), and use the drops four times a day. I go back next Thursday.

Well, this only poses a small problem. I don't do glasses. I have a pair of old ones that are good enough for first thing in the morning and before I retire in the evenings. There's that, and if I want to see what I'm running over while driving, it's generally a good idea that I wear contacts. I don't see worth a gee golly darn with glasses.

Oh, and not to forget that I look like this wearing glasses.