This is me fearful of what's to come:
Contact lenses!
I've worn glasses for over 35 years and as I've gotten older have only become even more squeamish around The Eye - the whole idea of it, the fragility, the red blood vessels, the iris, you name it, it freaks the hell out of me.
I've been going to the same eye dr.'s office since I was five, and two years ago one of the many talented eye doctors in the practice, not my usual one, asked if I'd ever considered wearing contacts. He said I was a good candidate and that contact technology had advanced so much that it might be something to consider. I did. It took me two more years to trick the idea around my brain and after last month's annual appointment I came home, thought about it some more and picked up the phone to make an appointment to get fitted for contacts.
To make a very long, kind of pathetic, exhausting story short, it took me two appointments on two separate days totaling almost 6 hours to figure out how to GET THEM OUT. Yes, oddly, I could get them in just fine...
Self-portrait first time wearing lenses:
but the whole finger-on-the-lens-on-the-eyeball situation was...freaking the hell out of me. A few doctors came to work with me, sharing their various techniques, the optometrist, Daryl, tried some words of wisdom, even some patients in the waiting room came to cheer me on (sadly, I had to go through my struggles very publicly due to the nature of the office set-up).
Finally, the wonderful and patient Dr. Kimora, who had started with me the first day, was with me when I finally tugged the left lens out (about 1/2 hour after I got the right one out) We high-fived and cheered and posed for a photo (I'm holding contact lens cleaning solution) that Daryl took.
I think they're all thrilled, every single one of them, that I'm out of their office.
And I KNOW I'm thrilled that I finally conquered a 35+ year-old fear.
Next time you see me I won't be doing the crazy double glasses thing, that is, assuming I can get them in and out again...
Happy weekend.
