Sunday, what better way to show off my new contacts than to wear them to church. It was that morning that I learned that blinking was an involuntary reaction. Eye lids are amazing, every time you stick anything thing near your eyes, they close to protect you. It doesn't matter what you put near them, fingers, water, jackhammers, contact lenses, they close. Imagine my surprise when my eye rejected my new contacts. After an hour and a half of poking my eye lids, I finally managed to get both contacts in.
I proudly wore my new lenses to church, where all my friends immediately asked me if I had my hair cut. After a long, exhausting day, I sat down to remove my contacts. As all wearers of contacts know, you must take them out. Unfortunately, my eyes did not know that. I began trying to take them out at about 4 o'clock. Once again I experimented with the fact that you blink every time something comes near your eyes, in this case, my fingers. Four hours later, my left eye was bloodshot, bruised, and nearly swollen shut, but it still held onto its prize, my left soft contact lens. My mother was on the verge of panic, so she did what every good mother does, she calls the professionals. In this case, her friends three year old ski instructor who had worn them all his life. After getting his expert advice, I bravely stuck my finger, back into my eye and lost a ring.
By 8:30 PM, my mom was in full panic mode and rushed me to the hospital. They sat me in the waiting room and made me fill out medical forms written in Swahili. I was then rushed to another waiting room where they took my blood pressure, my heart rate, and my temperature which they measured by sticking a thermometer in my ear. There are a lot worse places they can stick thermometers in, but I don't know why they did it in the first place. I wasn't sick, I just had a stuck contact lens, and no amount of sticking thermometers in my orifices was going to get it out.
Another 30 minutes passed in the waiting room and I was finally moved to the Emergency room. My doctor came in to greet me, and then looked in my ear. I assured him that he could see the contact better if he looked at my eye. He then began looking around at all the neat "toys" as he called them saying stuff like, "Hmm.. I wonder what this is?", or "I bet we could use a hacksaw, I saw one around here somewhere...".
Eventually he stopped playing with his toys, and began dumping assorted chemicals in my eyes. I think he intended for the chemicals to eat my eye out from under the lens judging by how much it burned. Seeing that my eye hadn't dissolved yet, he gave up and plucked the lens from my eye.
That's it, nothing hard, just out it came.
Before I could thank him though, he insisted on sticking one more chemical in my eye. He claimed that it was to check if I had scratched my lens, but I think he just wanted to play with it. Drip, drip, in went the flourozine, which, in the proper light, made my eye glow yellow. (That's right kids, the perfect gift for next Halloween.)
My ordeal finally over, I cheerfully funded another doctor to buy a Porsche, knowing deep in my heart, I would never stick anything in my eye
again.
Americans, as a whole, are vain. I, as an American, am seceding from the Union.