I count myself lucky to so rarely take ill. Other than a seasonal cough, most bugs don’t stick around in my system for too long. This may very well explain why I’m such a whiny brat when my health gives the slightest sign of weakness.
Enter pink eye. Yes--that infection of the ocular nature everyone contracted once in grade school when it was okay to stick your dirty little grubs in other people’s faces.
Except I’m not nine years old. And I certainly don’t tolerate dirty hands touching my eyeballs. So, why me?
Beyond that, why pink eye? Instead of a nice, easy cold that I could suppress with trippy drugs and yummy teas, I instead get to wear the careless disregard for my immune system on my face! And people definitely treat you with less sympathy than if you had a nagging cough—-especially when I can’t seriously look them in the face because of a droopy eyelid. Damn you, conjunctivitis!
For many years, I’ve worn contacts. I wear them so much that I never replaced my broken eyeglasses from college. Now I stare back, red faced and pink eyed, at my optometrist who tells me that not only can I NOT wear my contacts, but I CANNOT get a new prescription for eyeglasses until my eye heals.
Do optometrists have to take the Hippocratic Oath like other doctors?