Pink eye

This morning Finny was gazing at me as I went through the ritual of plonking a piece of plastic onto my eyeball. (Contacts really are quite bizarre when you think about it).

The left lens went in with very little drama. It always does. That left lens is easy like Sunday morning. Low maintenance, knows its place. No worries.  It's the right lens that takes some girding up of the loins. It is very temperamental, you never quite know with righty. Righty is often the thing that lies between me and the fantasy of one day, maybe... actually being on time for Church. Even if all the other stars aligned to make this possible, righty would make sure it did not happen. Anyway, so when the right lens slid in with narey a protest it was quite a moment. I smiled benignly down at Finny.  It was going to be a good day. And then, searing pain. blinding, confusing, burning, eyeball burrowing into skull pain. So much burning, need to get lens out NOW but eye won't open, pain. Eventually I pry it open, frantically poke at my eyeball and manage to drag out the lens of fire.  Finny watches with increasing interest.

I rinse off the lens again, noticing that it looks sort of foamy.., take a deep breath and slide it back into my poor bloodshot eye. Ah....All is well.

I walk away into my bedroom, various children following me asking me various random yet highly pressing questions, when suddenly..."OHMYGOSHGETITOUT!! GETITOUT (previously only said with as much emphasis when babies have been crowning),  MY EYE! MY EYE!" The burning is back, this time on my already traumatized eyeball it feels like it has been tied to the trailer hitch of a truck, dragged across a long sandy beach, and then had a refreshing dousing with lemon and vinegar.

I stumble back to the bathroom, howling and flailing,  leaving confused (yet undeterred in their questioning), children in my wake. Finny watches me thoughtfully, serenely.

As I coax my eye into opening, promising it a long contact lens free all-expense-paid vacation at a resort of its choice, in exchange for its immediate cooperation, and miraculously manage to get what feels like a permanently adhered lens of torture out of my eye, Finny comments conversationally,

"I put soap in dat, (waving airly towards my contact lens case), I was making magic."

Apparently mixing a variety of bathroom substances and $100 per ounce perfume together is what my lovely children constitute as "making magic". So far, we have gotten off rather lightly. An empty shampoo bottle here, no more expensive perfume til next Valentines day there... Today I magically almost the sight in my right eye.

I blame Aaron for passing on the Mad Scientist gene.

Comments

[Carolyn]

OWWW!!!!I am so sorry about your eye but this is truly LOL Funny!!

[J.a.n.e.t]

OMG! ROFLMAO! That Finney boy of yours sure is a keeper!! *love* You sure have a way with words when describing pain, I sure felt it!

[Amz]

This sound excruciating! I had a similar experince with my contacts and the peroxide cleaner I clean them in, not being nutralized all the way!

[Amy]

I'm pretty sure that was the funniest thing I've read today. And I can relate to the temperamental contact lens. Perhaps there should be mama-approved magic mixing containers in your future?

[Jen]

That made my feet hurt. Tingle, then hurt.

[Trinmom]

Ohh I have accidentally gotten lens cleaner in my eye so I may have an idea of the burn. But since there was no magical perfume, etc involved I'm sure I really don't have a clue.

Painfully funny. :-)

[Jenn]

A magic potion that can cause searing pain, tantamount to childbirth, is quite an accomplishment ~ look out Lord Voldemort! I truly felt your pain as I was reading this. Suffice to say, I now wear rubber gloves when I cut jalapenos.