Ditching your glasses for contact lenses is momentous. It was for me. I was nineteen. What I could now see, thanks to my freed peripheral vision, took some getting used to. It's like being led out of a cave and into the sunlight. The crisp clarity of my contacts compelled me to wear them as much -- and for as long -- as possible. In fact, I wore them to bed for the first couple of months, though my doctor warned me not to. Soon, I found out why this was not a good idea -- it was the morning I awoke to find my eyes wide shut.
I felt like I had just gone toe-to-toe with Larry Holmes -- and each punch had landed on my eye balls. I went to the mirror and peeled back my eye lids to see how bad the damage was. As you can imagine, they were red. Crimson, actually. Think James Dean's jacket from "Rebel Without a Cause". Thick mucus covered the corners of my eyes and the air hitting my eye balls was excruciating.
Though I could barely see, I was late for school and had to get a move on. As I passed my mother on the way to grab my keys, she screamed as if she was auditioning for a Hitchcock film. She commanded me not to go to school. She got on the phone and book an emergency appointment with our ophthalmologist. Great, swollen eyes and a lecture to boot.
Racing in and out of traffic, like Steven McQueen, my mother was on a mission. As I lurked about in my seat, my eyes began to close like some ancient Aztec tomb. The sunlight made my eyes water more profusely and my head began to pound. My mother had to lead me through the parking lot, all the way into the doctor's office. My ophthalmologist was not happy to see me.
Not much for long speeches, he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and pried open my eyes. Before I could protect, he peeled off my sullied contact lenses. "Did you sleep with them on?" Of course I did. His lecture about contact care was succinct, with I appreciated. He pinched a couple of gobs of antibacterial cream into my eyes and ordered me a new pair of contacts. All in all, not a bad day -- after all, I did get to miss school for the rest of the day.
I felt like I had just gone toe-to-toe with Larry Holmes -- and each punch had landed on my eye balls. I went to the mirror and peeled back my eye lids to see how bad the damage was. As you can imagine, they were red. Crimson, actually. Think James Dean's jacket from "Rebel Without a Cause". Thick mucus covered the corners of my eyes and the air hitting my eye balls was excruciating.
Though I could barely see, I was late for school and had to get a move on. As I passed my mother on the way to grab my keys, she screamed as if she was auditioning for a Hitchcock film. She commanded me not to go to school. She got on the phone and book an emergency appointment with our ophthalmologist. Great, swollen eyes and a lecture to boot.
Racing in and out of traffic, like Steven McQueen, my mother was on a mission. As I lurked about in my seat, my eyes began to close like some ancient Aztec tomb. The sunlight made my eyes water more profusely and my head began to pound. My mother had to lead me through the parking lot, all the way into the doctor's office. My ophthalmologist was not happy to see me.
Not much for long speeches, he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and pried open my eyes. Before I could protect, he peeled off my sullied contact lenses. "Did you sleep with them on?" Of course I did. His lecture about contact care was succinct, with I appreciated. He pinched a couple of gobs of antibacterial cream into my eyes and ordered me a new pair of contacts. All in all, not a bad day -- after all, I did get to miss school for the rest of the day.
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Though it's easy to forget, contact care is crucial. Make sure you understand how and how often you should where your contact lenses. Grab a totally unique version of this article from the Uber Article Directory
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