A One-Eyed Weekend

Well, that's maybe just a little overdramatic. But, pink eye is real.

I’m posting a little later than usual because I’ve got pink in my left eye and I couldn’t find my eyepatch.

I had to take a sick day because I feel like Satan gave my left retina a hickey last night while I was sleeping. I had been pulling my contact lens out all week at work thinking it was debris or just a bad lens. I thought maybe I was just dehydrated and my eye was becoming petrified. I stare at computer screens, too, most of the week, so I thought eye strain was a possibility.

Nope. Bonafide pink eye.

This isn’t my first bout. I’ve suffered the whole gamut of eye maladies my whole life. I’ve been poked in the eye more times than I can count, which is surprising considering small eyes run in my family. Pink eye is always the worst, though, because other than wanting to scrape your eyeball all day, you’re basically OK. Vision is cloudy, you look like you’ve been on a 36-hour bender, but for the most part, you just have to steer clear of people and altogether quarantine yourself.

The worst part is you’re encouraged to take these special eye drops before bed. I think part of the medicated solution contains super glue, but nevertheless, two drops before bed and you’re on the road to recovery. Except, when you wake up, you can’t open your eye because the solution dries and hardens on your eye lashes, effectively gluing your eye shut. Every morning after using the drops, you feel like you were the first to pass out at a frat house. Unpleasant to say the least.

This is my first sick day at my job. I can’t think of the last time I’ve called in sick for work. I could very well sleep in, but I’m too used to waking up at 6 a.m. I’m typing this through one eye, which means even if I wanted to sit around all day and watch movies, I’d probably get sick of the single-eye experience. That’s no way to live.

This is the equivalent of a major league pitcher getting scratched from the rotation because of a blister. It’s a nuisance more than anything, and particularly disheartening because I want to interview the chumps camping overnight at Pioneer Square Mall to get their iPads in the morning. I might have to play through the pain.

The nice thing about downtown Portland is you can approach someone with a freakish looking eye and no one will be caught off guard. It’s difficult to look threatening in this town, so we’ll see. (Pun, unfortunately, intended.)

5 thoughts on “A One-Eyed Weekend

  1. Just don’t touch the iPad chumps. Or the metal poles in the street cars. Maybe just stay in your apartment for Portland’s sake.

  2. How do you pull a contact lens in?

    My girls’ father can only see out of one eye. His parents figured it out when he was in kindergarten and was asked to do an eye test covering the one eye. He had to raise his hand and say he couldn’t see ANYTHING. (At least that is the way the story was handed down to me. You know how stories like that go.) I spent the first two weeks of my three daughters’ lives making funny faces and gestures to either side of their heads trying to decipher if my newborns’ eyeballs had the ability to receive and process light. Thank goodness the condition was not passed down from their father. It apparently skips a generation as my children’s great grandfather was one-eyed as well. Oh crap, now I get to spend countless hours worrying about my future grandchildren’s retinas and ciliary muscles. How would you like to live your entire life one-eyed….no depth perception….”friends” constantly coming to your weak side and cheap shotting you to get a laugh. (hopefully this will help you to quit feeling sorry for yourself today.)

    I may test out that 36-hour bender theory this weekend.

    • Man, typos galore in this post. That’s what I get for typing with just my right eye open, I guess.

      That’s a fascinating story, Alison. Consider my pity party over.

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