My dad showed up three hours later, and we set off to the eye doctor. I was now able to open my eyes for longer segments of time without wanting to die, but only while wearing my darkest pair of sunglasses.
Once we got there, I had to fill out two pages of paper work. Naturally.
Fortunately, it was no longer a breathless Baywatch type of scenario, but more of an I’m-on-the-top-of-Mount-Everest-and-its-constantly-much-harder-to-breathe type of situation. Honestly, it was much harder to endure listening to the people on The Chew talk about puddings as I waited for half an hour with my eyes closed.
I opened my eyes to see a woman holding my chart, beckoning me to follow her. I stood up and walked towards her.
“Wait, Linda,” said one of the girls behind the desk. Then she whispered something to Linda, which I could not hear. Apparently, your other senses don’t become super-heightened.
Linda told me to take a seat in the waiting room again, which worried me. I heard muffled discussions taking place behind the desk and saw my folder being passed around, which also worried me.
Ten minutes later, Linda called me back up to the desk. Two other ladies stood there with her as she informed me that my insurance would not, in fact, cover my visit to their office.
(Missed Part I? Click here to go back and catch up!)
My dad called me a couple hours later to see how I was doing.
I was doing the same: not well.
He told me to schedule a doctor’s appointment. He was going to leave work and drive two hours to take me to the eye doctor, seeing as I lived in a ghost town and also could not drive myself – me being blind and all.
I was touched. A tear of joy/pain/gratitude/my eye’s self-survival fell from my eye.
All I needed to do was schedule an appointment. The only minor problem was that I couldn’t go to my normal doctor since I was currently out of the area, as I was currently staying in New Jersey. My insurance is based in Pennsylvania, but has a fairly far-reaching network, allowing me to go to a doctor in New Jersey.
It was all still a pretty simple task. Here’s what I needed to do:
Last month, before going to bed one night, I felt a slight discomfort after taking my right contact out. There was very little pain, but just enough that I said something along the line of “owchies!” and took note of it before going to sleep. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I woke up at 6AM and could not open my eye, which was not ordinary.
I actually couldn’t open my left eye either. When I forced my left eye open to try to see, it felt as if a thousand piranhas were eating away at my right eye.
It was not pleasant, to say the least. I said many things, much much worse than “owchies!”
I ran back to bed, wrapping a blanket around my head (so as to escape any form of light) and, naturally, assumed the fetal position. I remembered a friend of mine having to deal with an incident with their eyes, which turned out to be computer vision syndrome or something along those lines.