If You Had a Rough Day …
Not in million years, would I have ever thought that putting eye contact lenses under pressure could cause a series of unfortunate events. It’s 8:15am. Both of my kids (3 and 5) are fed, dressed and ready for school. I am in the bathroom trying to quickly put on my contact lenses followed by some minimal make-up.
The time pressure is on. I gotta drop my older one to school and then get to my younger daughter pre-school on time. There is a shoe donation event this morning with Ron White. The city’s major John Tori will also be there. Perfect opportunity for me to mingle with some new people and, once in a while, to be more social.
Maybe it’s the time pressure, maybe it’s hearing my two kids screaming (they are probably fighting over a crayon), but I just can’t put my contact lenses in this morning. They just refuse to go in! … After five minutes of hustling and bustling they finally go on each of my eye balls. But they don’t feel good, my eyes are itchy. Damn, I gotta replace them. It’s 8:25am. I’m starting to feel the heat. Just as I struggled putting them in, I am now struggling to take them out. Through many different attempts I manage to get the left contact lens out but not the right. At this point, its 8:35am and both of my eyes are sore and red. I decide to keep the right contact lens in and try again later when my eye is less sore. I put on my make-up and my glasses, and surprisingly, I can see well with my glasses even though one contact lens remains in. Perfect, at least I will have a good vision while driving and meeting new people.
By 8:40am me and my clan are out of the door and I manage to deliver everyone to school almost on time. As we enter the pre-school, I hand off Sophie’s (my youngest) the gently worn toddler shoes to her and tell her to put them in the donation basket. “My light-up shoes!!” she screams with delight. She was so happy to see them again. She loved wearing those when she just turned 2 and they were her favourite. It took me a lot of effort, when she outgrew them, to hide them from her, as all she wanted to do was wear them, even when her foot could no longer go in.
“Sophie, just put them in the basket with all other shoes.” I am bracing myself for tears and disaster, but I also have faith that Sophie will make a proud sacrifice. And she does. She simply says “bye-bye shoes” and continues talking towards the class, as if those shoes meant nothing to her to begin with. “Well, that went well” I say to myself relived.
I drop Sophie off to class and remember that my right eye is still itchy. And, all of a sudden, I can’t tolerate it. I go into the bathroom and try to remove the contact lens once again. Tears go pouring down my right eye, together with the mascara. Now it looks redder than ever, my mascara is erased from several lashes in patches, and I didn’t bring it with me to re-apply. My eye is now hurting like hell and the contact lens is still on the eye! Except that I cannot see it because everything is a blur and I’m in a panic mode. I cannot see or think clearly. I look like an idiot mom who just had a melt-down.
Nothing I can do. I put on my glasses to cover up the mess at least a little and enter the social scene, smiling at people as if everything is all right.
There are speeches, followed by small talk and a little singing from the children who have come up to perform. Super cute. But all I can think of is what to do next with my eye.
I decide not to stick around too much for the treats and tea and the social aspect of the event and go for walk instead. I pass Ron White and greet him with a faint smile, trying to look down as much as possible, as not to reveal my one red, irritated eye without mascara. It might have looked like I’ve stollen one of his donated shoes … I think he responds with a faint nod and then smiles at someone else.
As I walk, I’m finally starting to relax and think clearly. That’s when, all of a sudden, it occurs to me – what if the contact lens is not even in my eye?! This thought was a real blow in my face. Is this possible? I mean this morning when I was putting it in, I was very distressed by my children’s screaming and I was under some serious time pressure. I also didn’t sleep well the night before. “Am I turning into one of those crazy people now?”
I go back to Sophie’s preschool and look into my red, swollen eye in the bathroom’s mirror. Yeap, I don’t see it. What was I thinking poking at my naked, red eye? I remember reading about a woman who couldn’t take her contacts out so she kept putting new ones in … until she reached 27 contacts in one eye! Am I going to end up like that one day too?
I decide to make an emergency appointment with a nearby optometrist. “We can take you if come here before 11”. It’s 10:40 and I’m roughly 10 minute drive away. Perfect. I rush to the site, park my car on the nearby street and run. It’s about 7 minute run from where I’ve parked for free.
As I enter the building’s elevator I am thinking to myself “yes! I made it! Everything will be alright from now on.” But as the elevator doors shut, the elevators starts to make scary noises and refuses to move. “No! You’ve got to be kidding me” I shout out loud, still panting from my jog. I feel like I’m in a movie where everything just goes wrong.
An old woman next to me in the elevator has a look of concern on her face. “Are you alright dear? Are you a claustrophobic? Can I help you?”
“No, no”, I say, “I’m not. I’m just late for my emergency appointment …I’ll be alright, thank you”. I feel stupid once again.
After what seems like forever, the elevator doors finally open on the spot. I decide not take chances and take the stairs up to the 8th floor. I arrive, panting once again. “I am sorry, I’m a little late. I got stuck on the elevator.”
“Yeah right” is the look I get from the receptionist who can clearly see that I’m out of breath and took the stairs. “It’s OK, sit down, the doctor will be right with you.”
The eye exam confirms that I have no contact lens in my eye. I made some minor damage to the eye, some scratches, but it should heal within the next three days…
“What on earth was I thinking, trying to get it out when it’s not even there!?” I am still in shock.
The rest of the day was no less eventful. I took my oldest, Chloe, to her ballet class after school and had to bring Sophie along as my mom couldn’t watch her today like she normally does. Sophie was just too delighted to come along, singing along the way, laughing with Chloe in the car … only to realize that she won’t be dancing with Chloe once the class started. Tears followed. “I wanna go dance in Chloe’s class mommy. Why can’t I go? Why??” I had to go out of my way to entertain her for the next 45 minutes duration of the classes, but nothing could make her happy. Nothing…
The drive home was very quiet and sad. Nobody said a word…
After quick dinner, the once again dreaded bed-time came just too fast and Sophie couldn’t find her favourite Baby Zoe, the one that she always brings with her everywhere. 20 more minutes of tears and distress. I finally locate Baby Zoe at the bottom of a laundry basket. Did she want me to wash her in the washing machine like a rug? Sophie’s tears cease.
At the same time, Chloe is jumping on the matters and I hear bang! Followed by screaming and more tears. I rush into Chloe’s room and I see her mouth covered in blood. Oh dear! She fell and bit her lip. There is blood all over her PJ’s and her hands…
An hour later, the girls are sleeping peacefully. I put on my PJ’s and enter my bathroom. As I look at myself in the mirror I tell myself that everything is ok. Then, something catches my eye. I look down and I see one dried up contact lens laying on the sink counter. It never made it into my eye after all. If contact lenses were alive, this one would be saying “gotcha!”.