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I get lost in your eyes

I rub my eyes a lot. That’s the main reason I almost never wear mascara. I actually looked into getting my eyelashes dyed black, but it is not recommended.

Sometimes when I rub an eye, my contact lens gets goofed up, forced into the upper regions of my eye socket. I then go to a mirror to see what I’m doing, slide it back in place, and go on with my life. Fortunately this has never happened while I’m driving.

Today I rubbed my lens out of place and I can’t find it. It’s up there. A Q-tip did not help fish it out. So, Internet, do I put a new lens in and move on, or do I call the doctor? “Hi, I’d like to make an appointment ot have my eyeball popped out to retrieve my contact lens.” This is one of those cases where Google is an alarmist. I will probably die.

Steve came home from NJ right when I was really starting to freak out. It’s a lot easier for someone else to see back there while I’m looking down. Nothing. Nada. Not even in the bright light of the master bathroom. So he called my eye doctor (because I was a blubbering mess), who of course is closed on Wednesdays. So then I waited a little while and called another optometrist and got an appointment this afternoon, but they don’t accept our insurance. So I called yet another office and they said the sclera keeps the lens from going behind the eye, and recommended massaging my eye through the upper lid to get the lens to work its way forward. So I massaged and massaged and Steve kept checking periodically. I couldn’t figure out if the pain was from the probing and massaging or from the actual lens being back there.

Then I went to check again in the mirror in the hall bath and there on the counter, a little shriveled, was the blessed contact lens. Apparently when I had first gone to look in that mirror after rubbing my eyes, the lens had popped out on its own and I hadn’t been back in that room since. Go ahead and kill the fatted calf, but in the meantime I’m wearing my glasses.